Majin
by Rapidfyrez
Summary: Taylor always wanted powers, to be a hero, to save others. But this power was never meant for her, never meant for a mortal mind. The question now, is can she control this power, or will it consume her as it has so many others before her?
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"Nervous son?"

"Only a little, Director Armstrong." said Weld, glancing down at the man and smiling faintly. Director Armstrong was a short man, five and a half feet tall, with dark skin and a bit overweight. He had a high forehead, a sharp jaw, and his hair was starting to grey and recede at the same time. In spite of the perpetually angry look on his face, Weld felt perfectly at ease around the director, and was glad he was personally accompanying him instead of sending the Deputy instead.

The Protectorate and the PRT, organizations dedicated to dealing with criminals of parahuman origin, were the closest thing Weld had to a home and family. Just like anyone's family, there were those Weld got along with, and those he tolerated because he had to. Deputy Director Angelica Jensen was definitely in the latter category, not through any fault of her own; their personalities were simply incompatible. She was the last person he needed around when trying to welcome a new member to the Wards.

That was why Weld felt nervous at all, though granted it wasn't as nervous as he knew he should be, but that was out of his control. His hands tightened with a faint groan of metal against metal. This was why the director had chosen him to welcome their new member, because of his own condition. Parahuman abilities expressed themselves in a wide variety of ways, but most left a person's body untouched, unless they were a Case 53 like Weld.

'Inhuman Capes' as they were called, varied wildly in their mutation with only a handful of defining traits that united them. Their drastically altered physical appearances, no memory of their past, and the number 53 tattooed or branded onto their body. Weld himself had been 'gifted' with a body of metal alloy; head to toe, he was a literal iron man. For their new member, meeting someone who was also as 'inhuman' as she was would probably help her feel at ease. Or make her feel like more of a monster, it could honestly swing either way.

Weld shook his head and stared up at the elevator's floor indicator and frowned. Half of the Protectorate was convinced the damn thing moved slower when it was most dramatically convenient.

He sighed, "I read her file, but I feel like I'm missing information. The entire case feels… off, director. Like she was pawned off on us."

Director Armstrong chuckled, a sound similar to rumbling thunder, "That's not entirely inaccurate, but it is a little more complicated than that. Now, you didn't hear this from me, Weld, but apparently there's bad blood between our new recruit and one of the Wards in Brockton Bay."

Weld arched a silver brow, that was news, the girls file made no mention of that. "How bad?"

"Bad enough that ENE is running its own internal investigation." Armstrong explained, while Weld listened intently, "Which is why they 'pawned her off' to us. My bet is that Director Piggot was afraid that the girl would run off if the two came face to face."

That didn't bode well. An entire branch of the Protectorate under investigation over some bad blood? Either it was more than just a clash of personalities, or Director Piggot wasn't taking any chances. The fact that she'd been able to trade the girl for one of their members was probably icing on the wouldn't say he was going to miss Bulldozer, the brute was as liable to cause as much collateral damage as the villains they tried to stop, but the speed with which the Protectorate and PRT acted, had caught everyone off guard. Of course, this all tied back to why Weld was volunteered to be her introduction to the Boston Wards. He tried being as friendly and helpful to others as he could, extending the same kindness he had been offered when he had first wandered into the Protectorate. Go figure that this made him their unofficial representative even if he wasn't the team leader.

"What's your opinion on her, director?" Weld asked.

Before Armstrong could answer, the elevator doors dinged and slid open. The Director smiled and clasped a hand on Welds shoulder, "Well, I think she's a girl that needs a nice warm welcome to her new home. Anything else we can save for later." Then he walked out into the underground garage.

Weld followed, and kept those words in mind. It was important to remember that the girl was a person first, and an asset to the Protectorate second. That thought made him wrinkle his nose, he'd been spending too much time talking to the PRT bureaucrats, the girl had a name. Taylor Hebert was more than just a new name on the Ward roster. They were accepting her into their home, into their family. It was up to Weld to make sure that the courtesy the Protectorate had extended to him, was offered to her.

Now he felt his confidence return, walking with his shoulders a little straighter and his steps a little lighter. Metaphorically, that is, the garage still echoed with his heavy footfalls. Weighing several hundred pounds and being made of living metal would do that.

The primary Boston PRT division had three primary parking lots: There was the large and expansive one at the front of the building where civilians, news reporters and family visitors could park. The parking garage for the employees that kept the wheels of the bureaucratic machine greased and moving. And below that was the underground motorpool where armored vehicles, tinkertech transports, and a fleet of tinted government vehicles were stored PRT response teams and their occasional tinker support deployed from the motor pool whenever a parahuman was on the rampage. Conversely, newly minted members of the Protectorate and Wards often had their first exposure to the building through the motor pool Without a proper costume to preserve their identities, it was up to the PRT to shuttle them from their homes to the headquarters, until a proper costume and cape persona had been created. When new members of the team weren't being ferried to and fro, parahuman criminals were brought to the state of the art holding cells via an industrial size and strength elevator built into the eastern side of the garage.

All of this was why Weld and Director Armstrong were down there, to meet Taylor Hebert when she arrived. They emerged from the elevator into the harsh industrial lights of the loading bay Based off his past experience, Weld had hoped he'd have a few minutes to wait for Taylor's escort to arrive so he could prepare his first words.

Unfortunately, they were frustratingly efficient today, and he had no luck. For once, they were the ones late today. A large black sedan with tinted windows was parked with one PRT agent in civilian garb heading for the trunk while the other stood by the driver side door looking alert and intimidating. Weld only spared them a brief look, before focusing on Taylor herself.

Of course, Weld had read the file on her and seen the pictures, he had known what to expect. But those pictures didn't do justice to just how much her powers had physically changed her. Weld knew that at one time, Taylor had been a tall, thin girl with pale skin and long curly brown, almost black. hair. A very plain, bespectacled-girls-next-door kind of person, perfectly average.

She had kept her height, perhaps even had grown taller, but had traded in her pale skin and dark hair for rubbery pink skin and hair to match. Her glasses were long gone along with her nose, and her eyes had grown larger, and practically reversed color; black sclera highlighted eerily white irises. A tentacle sloped out from the front of her skull, and drooped along the back; Weld wasn't sure, but he thought it might be moving on its own. Taylor certainly wasn't the most monstrous Case 53 that Weld had ever seen, or even the most monstrous cape, but her appearance practically oozed uncanny valley. He felt on edge just looking at her, a distinct desire to be as far away from her as humanly possible.

His instinctual reaction was odd - physical appearances didn't normally bother Weld that much. Perhaps she had a subtle aura that made people feel unsettled around her. With her appearance, most would probably write it off as lizard-brained instinct, but Weld wasn't so sure. He made a mental note to bring this up later, when Taylor wasn't around. For now, it was time for introductions.

Taylor noticed them after the PRT agent handed off a small bag, practically a backpack, to her, and returned to the car. She stiffened, and ignored the car as it rumbled off back to storage behind her. Weld quickly bridged the gap between them without missing a beat and offered his hand, "Taylor Hebert? My name's Weld, I'm one of the Wards. It's nice to meet you."

Some of the tension eased from her shoulders, and she shook his hand; she had a strong, inhumanly warm, grip. "T-thank you. It's good - I mean nice to meet you too."

Weld smiled and released her hand, "I hope the trip wasn't too dull, it's a bit of a drive from Brockton Bay to Boston."

Taylor rapidly shook her head, "No, no. I mean, it's not that long of a drive from Brockton Bay, but I was so nervous that I just couldn't get bored because I mean, I'm here as a Ward and I don't think I ever expected this and everything is moving so fast, and I think I'm going to shut up now."

Weld laughed, "It's okay Taylor, I get it. The last few days must've been crazy for you."

Her shoulders slumped and she laughed nervously, "Haha, yeah. I think it still hasn't sunk in yet!"

"We are more than happy to make your induction to the Wards as smooth and painless as possible, Miss Hebert," Director Armstrong said as he stepped up next to Weld, "Or do you prefer Taylor?"

The girl perked up at that, "E-either or, mist- I mean sir. I'm sorry."

The director laughed and extended a hand in greeting, "Taylor it is. I'm Director Kamil Armstrong, one of your superiors in Boston. Bastion and Kelvin are, unfortunately, preoccupied at the moment; duties that come with the job I'm afraid. I had free time that they didn't, so I wanted to welcome you personally to our department."

Without a nose, it was hard for Weld to place the expression on Taylor's face. He mistook it for confusion at first, but when her shoulders relaxed and her head… tentacle? Bobbed up and down, he figured it was relief.

She shook the director's hand and met his smile with a small one of her own, notably keeping her lips shut. "Thank you, Director, it's a pleasure to meet you both."

Armstrong laughed, "Please, unless you graduate to an official member of the Protectorate, or I'm debriefing you, it's Armstrong."

Taylor nodded, "Okay, I'll remember that Di-Armstrong."

"See that you do. I get enough formality from the rest of the PRT, I don't need it from you kids either," Armstrong said with an easy smile. His eyes flicked to Weld, who got the hint.

"Well," he said, rubbing his hands together, "Is there anything you need help with? I can show you to your room and give you the grand tour if you want."

Taylor glanced over her shoulder at her backpack, and nodded, "A tour would be nice, if it's not too much trouble. I don't really want to impose."

"Nonsense," Armstrong said, "Taylor, the ink on your paperwork might still be drying, but as far as I'm concerned, you're a member of my Wards. As the Director, it's my job to make sure that the people serving under me have the tools and environment they need to function at their best."

The corner of his mouth twitched in a smirk, "Within reason of course."

Weld definitely knew the expression that came over Taylor's face now: disbelief. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you."

She turned to Weld, "I really would appreciate that tour, Weld. Is there any chance we could stop at the cafeteria first? I'm starving."

Weld smiled, "Sure, but heads up, the lunch rush is going to hit soon. I could bring you to your room first and then bring whatever you want to eat, if you're not… ya know, ready to meet the whole organization."

From the way she held herself and acted, it was obvious how unsure she was about her new form. A day or two to ease into things might help her shed it without pushing her too hard. He remembered the stares he'd gotten before everyone had adjusted to having him around, they were hard to ignore.

Taylor opened her mouth to respond, paused, and rested a hand on her stomach, "No… I'll deal with it. I really am hungry right now."

He nodded, "Okay then, follow me."

A quick lunch, and then a tour of the building, that should be easy enough.

* * *

Weld had fought the Teeth, witnessed their cruelty and viciousness. He had faced the unseen horrors of Night and Fog. Blasto's horrifying genetic experiments, he had stood against them with his fellow Wards. All together, combined with the machinations of the Ambassadors, had left him with horrifying sights that gave him nightmares.

Watching Taylor eat, quickly joined them.

There were _mountains _smaller than the pile of food she had dragged back to their table, how she fit it all on one tray he had no idea. That wasn't the scary part, what scared him was that she went back for _seconds_. Then thirds, then fourths, until there was a hill of aluminum trays neatly stacked in the center of their table, easily two or three feet high and practically licked clean.

Her file had mentioned that Taylor's intake of calories was drastically increased by her powers - this had obviously been downplayed. He had assumed that the first tray had been what they meant; oh how naively innocent he had been.

The moment she had started eating, she had entered a fugue, like a tinker. She paid no mind to the stunned stares from PRT staff as she made repeated trips to the cafeteria line. It got so bad that Weld legitimately worried that she might actually eat the entire stock before the lunch rush had even begun.

To his utter relief, this never came to pass. On her fifteenth tray, Taylor finally slowed to a stop, and slid back in her chair, a content sigh on her lips and eyes struggling to stay open. Her stomach was visibly extended to the point that her belly poked out between her shirt and pants.

Weld sat in stunned silence, and glanced around the cafeteria. The mess hall was large enough to comfortably seat the majority of the staff on site, and was only now beginning to fill with PRT workers. Many of the new arrivals visibly stopped and gaped at their table before they went to the lunch line. Everyone else who had been at ground zero when the massacre began had wisely retreated to the other side of the mess hall, if only to avoid the splash zone.

Slowly, Weld peered past the stacks of trays at Taylor; she looked at him, blinked slowly, and then her eyes widened and she sat up straight. Her stomach deflated like a balloon and if he hadn't seen it himself, he would never have imagined her as the culprit behind the murder of food he had witnessed.

Taylor at least had enough self awareness to look embarrassed. She coughed awkwardly into her hand and said, "S-sorry. Like I said, I was hungry."

Weld looked meaningfully at the trays of food and then back at her. "You don't say?"

"Can… can we just go on the rest of the tour please?" Taylor asked, now aware of the odd looks they were getting.

Weld stood up and offered her a hand, "Sure, let's get you settled in."

She took it, stood up, and paused to look at his own tray, which was practically untouched.

"Um, you weren't going to eat the rest of that, were you?"

**A/N: Show of hands. Is anyone here at all surprised that I concieved of this idea in the middle of a fever dream while high on a dozen different medications? I sure as hell ain't. Winter colds are crazy.**

**Anyway, hello everyone! Those that know my other Worm fics are probably wondering why I'm starting another one. Well, plot bunnies are a bitch, and it fills out my trifecta of stories. I've found I am only really satisfied writing when I'm working on about three stories at once, no more no less. Tiamat is a collab so it doesn't count. My other two fics, The Collector and Echoes of Yesterday, are still being worked on. Both have chapters partially completed, chapters I had planned on writing over the holidays before I was nearly hospitalized. I wrote this up on the side while I was recovering and then when I wanted to get to work on my other stories, life started punching me over and over in the gut. Lets just say the start of the new decade hasn't been kind to me, and leave it at that.**

**So, quick notes and questions answered. Yes, Taylor is in fact the new Majin Buu and how she managed to wind up in control of him will be explored in flashback. The plot will continue from here, and we will eventually learn how Taylor came in position of one of the most OP powersets in fiction. Other note, there will be OC's in this fic, it's an unavoidable consequence of Taylor being sent to the Boston Wards, since we only have a handful of known characters in that department, I apologize in advance. Why Taylor was sent to the Boston Wards will be explained later, as I don't want to give away too much of the plot. Final note, expect a (hopefully) amusing clash of Worm vs Dragon Ball style humor and story telling. I will try to balance it the best as I can, but this is a heads up if you're not a fan of one or the other. I will try to avoid writing five chapters of screaming and powering up though.**

**All that aside, I hope you enjoyed what I wrote out, I eagerly look forward to sharing more with you in the future, in this fic or any of the others I'm writing at the moment. Have a wonderful rest of your day!**


	2. Room And Ward 1-1

Room and Ward 1.1

Oh my god, why couldn't I keep my stupid mouth shut sometimes!? Weld looked at me like I'd grown a second head. Which, given the events of the past few days, didn't seem that unlikely to me. At the moment though, I just wanted to bury the one I had in the ground and vanish from site.

I couldn't help it, I was so hungry! Ever since I had changed last week, hunger had been a constant, gnawing presence. Sure, sometimes it wasn't so bad, and a good meal could take the edge off, but it was always there. A constant desire, no, need, to eat seemed to be my new default state. My meal in the cafeteria had been the largest I had eaten in days, after consciously trying to control my appetite. That was a lost cause now; when I had walked in, the smell of food had been overpowering, I had barely been able to restrain myself from simply jumping over the glass divider and stuffing my face. That was the worst case scenario, but it was clear that I had ruined my chances for a good first im-

"Yeah sure, take it." Weld offered me his tray, and my train of thought derailed.

"I-what?" I said.

Weld shrugged, "I've seen powers mess with appetites before. I barely need to eat at all, it makes sense that there would be someone out there with the opposite problem. You probably need all that extra energy for your powers, so go for it."

I stared at him at a loss for words. My stomach spoke for me though, loudly grumbling. My face flushed a deeper shade of pink and took his tray without a word and started nibbling on its contents. With the initial hunger frenzy over, I found it much easier to eat at a reasonable pace.

The cafeteria food was, for lack of a better word, awful. But, it was still food, and even if the mashed potatoes were cold, the rolls a little stale and the chicken moist and cold, I still happily scarfed it down.

"Thank you," I murmured as I swallowed the last roll. I tried not to hunch my shoulders, an instinctive reaction I had developed over time at my old high school. Even thinking about Winslow was enough to make me shudder internally, and filled my stomach with a feeling of unease and dread. I reminded myself that I wasn't stuck in that hellhole anymore, that I would never have to go there again. It only helped a little.

Weld smiled, exposing a set of perfect silver teeth. "No problem. You ready for the rest of the tour?"

"Yes please." I muttered and set the tray back on the table before I followed him out of the cafeteria.

The Boston Branch of the PRT was noticeably larger and nicer than the branch back home in Brockton Bay, which was saying something. There were at least ten floors of accountants, bureaucrats, PRT agents and officers, and support staff for the Protectorate members. From what I understand, there were several smaller stations setup throughout the city, similar to a police department, but this HQ was the largest and most well established.

The halls were clean and spotless, clean carpets, pristine walls and softly glowing office lights lined the ceilings. The HQ in Brockton Bay had been in good repair, but it was worn, tired and if you looked close enough, it was clear it was starting to fray. In Boston, none of that was the case and it was weird. As a girl that had grown up in one of the worst cities in the United States, being anywhere that didn't look like it was falling apart felt strange and alien to me.

To be honest, this entire situation was unnerving.

A week ago, I had been plain boring Taylor Hebert, victim of Winslow High and otherwise forgettable daughter of Danny Hebert. Then I had… changed. I furrowed my brow as I followed behind Weld, and took steady breaths. I didn't want to think about that, about what had turned me into the walking wad of bubblegum I was now. The nightmares were bad enough, and I had no desire to drag them with me into the waking world. That felt dreamlike enough as it was.

Not only was I now a superhero in all but name (Which was no doubt coming soon), but I was a Ward in one of the premier locations in the Cape community. The only way this could be anymore amazing, was if I'd been assigned to a district under the protection of the Triumvirate.

I suddenly realized that while I had been lost in thought, Weld had been talking to me. I wasn't used to being talked to, especially after the last week where I had spent more time being talked at.

"Sorry," I apologized, "I wasn't paying attention. Could you repeat that?"

"Would you rather see the gymnasium first, the lockers, or the Ward common room? Hunch will definitely be there, but I'd need to check the patrols and see if anyone else is off duty."

Apprehension swelled in my stomach and I almost stopped walking. What I really wanted was to head to my new room, settle down and just hide for the rest of the day. A chance to get my bearings and to just let the entire situation sink in was something I desperately wanted. Exhaustion pulled at my limbs; the past few days had been so chaotic, I'd had no real chance to just sit down and relax. The car ride over was as close as I'd come outside of sleeping, and I'd been too keyed up to relax.

But, I wasn't one to easily give in to my basic wants, hunger notwithstanding. If I ran off to my room now, I'd just be putting off the inevitable. Better to rip off the band-aid, so to speak, and then I could rest without having to worry about meetings and social interactions. This would also, hopefully, show me exactly what to expect in the future.

Dad had worked hard to convince me that going to the PRT was the right call, and I still wasn't entirely convinced it had been. But I was here now, the least I could do was find out if I had really left the worst of Winslow behind, or if it would follow me no matter where I went. Armstrong and Weld so far suggested the former, but I was cynical enough to think they were exceptions, not the rule.

I looked at Weld and said, "I'd like to meet the others, if it's not too much trouble."

He nodded, "Alright then, that'll be this way."

We took an elevator down to the first floor where the Wards were located, and he lead me down a series of sterile hallways to a large door and touch panel. Weld took off one of the gloves he was wearing and placed a metal palm to it. The screen flashed green and there was a low beep from the other side of the door.

He pulled the glove back on as he looked at me, "Warning to anyone inside so they can mask up, just in case."

I nodded and looked at the screen curiously, "Um, how did it know it was you if you're…?"

That actually made him laugh, "My body is made of metal but its 'biologically accurate' down to the cellular level. My hands still have fingerprints, they're just made of metal."

Huh, who knew?

The screen flashed again, and the doors slid open to let us inside. The Ward common room was a kitchen living room combo, each individually larger than the first floor of my home.

The common room had polished wooden floors, with angular red furniture neatly arranged on a large blue grey rug that stretched from one end of the 'living room' to the other, stopping just at where the kitchen began. Each set of couches was set up around a knee-high table, one of which was currently littered with empty soda cans, chip bags and - oh my god, where those twinkies!?

Focus Taylor!

With a force of will, I tore my eyes off the twinkies and glanced at the kitchen. It was separated from the living room by a large granite top, a material spread to the rest of the kitchen counters. All the cabinets were made of some sort of dark wood with stainless steel handles and two stainless steel fridges. A similarly armored oven rested between them with a shiny sink set into the countertop and currently filled with dirty dishes.

All in all, it certainly seemed cozy and lived in.

Unfortunately, it was also very occupied. Five sets of eyes all focused on me the moment I stepped through the door, and I froze on the edge of the threshold. There was a moment of painfully awkward silence as I internally panicked. I should say hi, introduce myself, say something! The last two years had done nothing for my social skills, but was I really so out of practice that a simple greeting to a group of people my age was too hard to dredge up!?

Evidently so, as no words came to me. Thankfully, one of the Wards broke the silence.

"Holy shit! I knew she'd been tall, but I didn't think she'd be that god damn tall!"

Weld sighed and glared at the end of the couch, "Hunch, we talked about this. Watch the language. Also, she's standing right here."

The boy, Hunch, was maybe thirteen or fourteen years old? It was hard to tell, his body was a twisted mass of bone and muscle. His left arm was shrunken and practically vestigial while his right was overly long and attached to a bulging shoulder. He was hunched over, which might explain the name, to the point that his head seemed to jut from his chest, and he was dressed very plainly. The only normal part of him was his face, and even that seemed to be stretched abnormally long, with one eye noticeably larger than the other.

He smirked at Weld and held his good hand up to his mouth, "Oh, sorry, let me try again. Holy shit, I knew you'd be tall, but I didn't think you'd be that gosh darn tall! There, better?"

I tried not to blush and shrink in on myself. It was a habit from school, a defense mechanism I used to try and avoid attention. As a plain skinny girl, it worked wonderfully at Winslow. As a nearly seven foot tall walking piece of bubblegum, it probably wouldn't.

Thankfully, there was no time for anyone to register my reaction, as I suddenly found myself surrounded by a trio of young boys, all of them younger than Hunch and practically identical. I flinched back in surprise, I hadn't even heard them move!

"Hiya!" They spoke in unison, in equally excited voices.

"I'm Alfonso!" said the one farthest in the back.

"I'm Carlos!" chimed in the second.

"And I'm Nicholas!" the last one declared proudly. "We're the Trio De Danger! What's your name?"

Carlos cuffed Nicholas upside the head, "We never agreed on that, you know that stupid!"

"You think it's awesome!" Nicholas shot back, "You just won't admit it!"

"Don't lie to me, pendejo!"

Behind them, Alfonso cupped his face and sighed while I just stood there unmoving. A small part of me was convinced that if I started moving again, they would suddenly remember I was there, and then they'd direct their attention back at me.

Thank god, I was saved before that happened. Not by Weld, surprisingly, but by the last inhabitant of the room. A short stout girl came up behind Nicholas and Carlos, grabbed them both by the ear, and yanked on them hard, making all three boys yelp in pain.

"Alright you little turds, that's enough!" she bellowed, and firmly pulled them away from me. "Grab some drinks from the fridge, then come back when you've calmed down, okay?"

Nicholas let loose a few expletives in spanish I had never heard before, prompting the girl to shake him by the ear. "Aiye! Yes, yes, I understand!"

"We understand, Erica!" the other boys agreed.

Satisfied with their answer, she released them and let them scurry off to the kitchen. Then, she turned her gaze on me. She was maybe five foot even, with short black hair that stood out hard against her almost albino colored skin. Her face was lined with acne scars, and dark brown eyes sparkled with mischief, even as she craned her neck back to look up at me.

"So," she said, chewing on something as she spoke, "You're the new Ward, eh?"

I nodded mutely.

She smirked, "Well, my name's Erica. You're Taylor, right?"

Again, I nodded.

"Nice to meet ya," she said, then reached into her pocket and offered something to me.

It took me a minute to recognize it as a stick of gum. I looked at her, brow raised. Weld stared at her with silent disapproval, and Hunch had moved to the edge of the couch watching us with bated breath. I couldn't see the triplets in the kitchen, but I imagine they were eagerly watching. She wore an innocent smile on her face, but her eyes sparkled with mischief, while she very slowly and deliberately blew a giant bubble with the gum she was chewing on. There was a loud pop, and I felt something break.

And then I started to laugh. I couldn't help it, this whole situation felt so absurd, and I'd been so high strung for the last few days that her stupid joke or insult or whatever it was supposed to be broke me. So I laughed and laughed until I was leaning over, hands on my knees and gasping for air.

When I finally calmed down, I stood up and wiped a tear from my eye, while smiling at Erica, "That joke was terrible! Are you sure you're not an undercover supervillain?"

Her lips turned up in a smile, "I'd be a pretty bad villain if I told you that, wouldn't I?"

"I've seen worse," I sighed, and accepted the stick of gum. I didn't actually want it, I couldn't eat gum, but I wasn't going to be rude either.

I slipped it into the pocket of my jacket and said, "Yes, my name is Taylor Hebert, I'm the new Ward here, I think."

"You think?" Hunch spoke up and looked at Weld with mock horror, "Did someone mess up the paperwork again!?"

"It's the only explanation for why you're still here." Erica said dryly.

"Oooh!" the trio chorus'd from the kitchen.

Weld sighed and gestured at them all, "Taylor, these are, unfortunately, the Boston Wards; the majority of them, anyway. Allow me to introduce Hunch and Glacies. The trio in the kitchen are Gestalt. Kelvin and Link are still on patrol and won't be back till later this evening."

I nodded and put on my friendliest smile, "It's nice to meet you all. I guess we'll be working together a lot in the future?"

Hunch looked at Weld dryly, "Let me guess, she's a thinker?"

"Be nice." Weld warned.

Hunch raised his vestigial arm in surrender, "Okay, okay, I'll tone it down."

He looked back at me and smiled, "Sorry if I'm a bit much. When you look like this, everything kind of becomes a joke. Let me know if I take it too far; apparently I'm really bad at knowing when I've crossed a line."

"No line crossed yet," I told him. "Though if you don't mind me asking, what do you all do? I tried doing some research before I got here, but there wasn't a lot of time for it."

"Right, Cape Witness Protection." Hunch said. I shrugged wordlessly. I wasn't sure how much I could talk about my unique circumstances to the Wards yet. I made a mental note to ask Director Armstrong the next time I saw him.

"Well," Hunch started, puffing his chest out the best he could, "I'm a precog. I can look at something, and give you a pretty accurate guestimate at how it ticks. Like you for example."

He cocked his head to the side and his eyes lost focus, "You're… more durable than anyone in this room… you have a sweet tooth that would give a dentist a heart attack… and...that's it." he shook his head, shuddered, and pointedly stared at the ground

I cocked my head to the side and he shrugged, "It varies person to person. I only get vague ideas about people. Sometimes I can get four or five things at once, but a lot of times it's only one or two things. Capes can be hard sometimes, especially if they have weird powers with arbitrary limits." he glanced at the kitchen but said nothing.

"Hunch is mostly mission control." Weld explained, "He gives us field advice, lets us know where we're needed. You'll be hearing him a lot once you start going on patrol."

"Unfortunately." Erica said with a smirk.

Hunch rolled his eyes and sank back into the couch. Erica frowned, almost hesitating before she shrugged and turned to me, "I'm a Master. I can create constructs out of ice and control them remotely. Can't go much bigger than you though, and I can't control more than two or three at a time. As long as I'm directly controlling them, they can operate in normal temperatures. Well, normal Boston temperatures, I haven't tried using them in a desert or anything yet."

At that moment, the triplets returned, dragging in several twelve packs of soda and nearly slamming them on the table. Alfonso came up and offered me a drink, which I gladly took, "And you three? I'm guessing you're some kind of hive mind?"

"Yup!" They said in unison.

"Anything they feel, we feel! We can also look at what the other is thinking or doing, but we can turn it off."

"Thank god," Carlos added, "I'd go insane if I had you two stuck in my head all the time."

"But we're not just a hive mind." Alfonso added. "We also have this really cool ability where we can combine into one person!"

I blinked, "Um, wow. That's… I don't think I've ever heard of a cape with a power like that."

The boy beamed, "It's pretty cool, but we aren't allowed to do it very often."

"Their combined form can only be maintained for a few minutes and afterwards they're almost always unconscious," Weld explained, "And if they're hurt while combined, all three of them carry the injury with them. They're a lot stronger combined, but we only save it for emergencies."

At that, all three boys folded their arms and started muttering darkly under their breath. Obviously they didn't appreciate being stuck on the sidelines.

"So," Erica interjected, clapping her hands together, "We've told you what we can do. But what about you, Bubblegum? What can you do?"

I opened my mouth to respond, when I was interrupted by a beep from Weld. We all turned to look at him; he was checking his phone, and frowning. He slid it back in his pocket and sighed, "Sorry everyone, looks like we'll have to cut things short. They need Taylor to finalize some paperwork. We can finish up introductions tomorrow."

"Aw!" the triplets whined.

Erica snickered and shrugged, "Ah well. Guess we'll have to wait then."

She fixed me with a melodramatic stare, "But for the sake of the triplets, you better be prepared for some hardcore quizzing on what you can do tomorrow."

At that, I actually smiled. "I look forward to it."

* * *

The rest of my day was nowhere near as exciting as my meeting with the Wards, for better and for worse. Weld did a good job of familiarizing me with the local facilities the PRT HQ had to offer. When we finished with that, he brought me to the people I needed to talk to in order to finalize my paperwork. The one thing I could say for certain about my day was that Weld was one of the most patient people I had ever met. It was a relief to ask someone a question and not have them blow me off or mockingly laugh in my face for it.

That said, when Weld and I finally parted ways, the rest of my day became a struggle. The last week had been nothing but paperwork and bureaucracy, and today proved no different. I was, to be frank, completely over it, even if it was necessary. At one point, I found myself dozing off while an accountant had explained how the PRT would be paying me during my stint at the Wards. This happened again several more times throughout the day, and it took all my effort not to simply collapse onto the floor of my room and go to sleep once it was all over.

My room, my room as a Ward. How weird was that to think about? I certainly didn't feel any different; I still felt like Taylor Hebert, awkward girl extraordinaire. But apparently being turned into pink rubber was enough to qualify, and so here I was.

The room I had been assigned (that felt better), was only a little larger than the one I had at home, which was a surprise. It had a small attached restroom with no shower or bath. Those were, as far as I knew, in the Ward locker room which was connected to the common room. Which of course, made the restroom useless to me as I hadn't actually had to go since my transformation. So there was a positive, I guess.

My new bed was large, though it would have to be to fit me. There was a nightstand on the right hand side, and a dresser on the far wall across from it. A decent sized TV was suspended from the wall above the dresser, but aside from that the room was very bare. According to Weld, I could decorate it and change it as I saw fit in the next few days, so if I wanted I could make it a practical carbon copy of my room at home.

I sighed, tossed my bag on the floor, and flopped backwards onto the bed. Sleep called to me, dragging at the frayed corners of my mind. A quick glance at the digital clock told me it was only 5:23 PM. Which meant dinner had just started up; the thought of food banished any and all thoughts of sleep.

"Calm down, Taylor." I growled even as I sat up and prepared to sprint through the door. A small part of me chafed at this; after all, it had only been five hours or so since my last meal, that was way too long!

I shook my head, annoyed at how easily I was distracted. It would be more polite to wait until the majority of the building had eaten before I went down myself, if only to make sure everyone else had enough to eat in the first place. Of course, this would also mean there were less people staring at me as I inevitably pigged out, but that was absolutely not at the forefront of my mind, honest.

Besides, there was more important business for me to attend to. On my nightstand next to the digital clock, was a landline phone. This made what I needed to do next easier, because I had never owned a cell phone before. I dialed the number to call, picked up the receiver, and anxiously waited for him to pick up, anxiously wrapping the cord around my fingers while I waited.

After the third ring, a tired voice answered, "Hello, this is the Hebert residence, Danny speaking."

"...Hey dad." I said softly.

"Taylor!" my dad's tone did a complete 180, all exhaustion banished to the sidelines, "Oh my god, my little owl, it's so good to hear from you! How are you, is everything going okay in Boston?"

I smiled a little, bitterly amused at the irony. This entire event had done more for our relationship than the two years of grieving we had done since the… the accident. I tore my thoughts away from that and focused on the call.

"Yeah, I made it okay without issue. Director Armstrong seems nice, and the Wards are… special."

"I hope you mean that in a good way." Dad said, half joking.

"They're about what you'd expect from having a bunch of super powered teenagers in one place." I admitted.

"There's a lot of ways to take that, Taylor." Danny said, though his tone was a lot more joking.

"They were nice. A little eccentric, but nice." I clarified. I took a steadying breath and added, "What about you? How're things back in Brockton Bay?"

Dad sighed, "About the same. The ABB and Empire look like they're getting ready to ramp things up, and there was a brief scandal at the PRT. One of the Wards was caught violating their probation, but they're being very hush hush about it. The city is on edge right now."

I tightened my grip on the phone, and pulled the cord tight enough to cut into my fingers. "Are you going to be safe? Have you sold the house yet?"

"No; even if we were in the nicest safest neighborhood in the country, it would take more than a week for me to sell off the house." Dad said, and I could sense the sadness in his voice.

It was a hard thing, giving up our old home. But for this to work, for the both of us to be safe, it was necessary. I had made a mistake in those first few hours after my transformation. I had just walked right into the front door, where plenty of people had seen me. Everyone knew, at bare minimum, that a cape was tied to our home. It was dangerous to stay in Brockton Bay even if you had no cape affiliation. A target on our back that big meant that we simply couldn't stay. That was why I was transferred to Boston; it was why we were giving up our family home.

It didn't alleviate my guilt.

"Dad, I'm… I'm sorry that you had to do that. I know how much the house meant to you, and your job. I…"

"Taylor…" Dad sighed, "at the end of the day, it's just a house. It's just a job. You are the most important thing to me in the world. As long as you're safe, as long as you're happy, then I'm okay with losing the house."

I bit back a bitter remark. He didn't know, and I couldn't blame him for not knowing. About how alone I had been, about the bullying, about everything that happened after the accident. After my mom died. Grief hit everyone differently, I knew that, I understood that. That didn't help with my anger.

Focus Taylor, focus.

"So," Dad mercifully changed the subject, "these Ward's are pretty eccentric, huh? How kooky are we talking?"

I finally grinned, a full fang toothed grin. "Well, first there's the triplets, oh my god you have no idea how excitable these three are…"

And so it went. At least for the next hour or so, I felt normal again.

* * *

**A/N: Character introductions are hard, especially when you have to make them up from whole cloth. Part of the reason I took a while in this chapter was because I went power hunting to figure out good powers for the Wards that weren't too close to the ones we know from Canon. I certainly hope that I succeeded in both their powers and their personalities, at the very least in introducing them.**

**It's gonna be a little bit until the next chapter goes up. In general I'm modifying my update schedule to fit the three stories I'm working on, with my bare minimum being one chapter every week. The cycle goes: Majin, the Collector, Echoes of Yesterday. So it could be a week or two until Majin updates again, or I could churn out the chapter by Friday depending on my mood. Figured I'd give you a headsup now though so you knew.**

**Anyway, hope you enjoyed the chapter, let me know what you think in the comments below and feel free to leave comments and (Constructive) criticism. See you next time!**


	3. Room and Ward 1-2

**Room and Ward 1.2**

Oh I loved this game!

Tag was so much fun, especially since I was always the fastest whenever we played. The others would try and hide, since they knew I was faster, but that never helped. I always found them, and I always managed to tag them; they never tried chasing me though. That was sad, but they couldn't have caught me anyway.

Three of my playmates ran right now, laughing so hard that some of them were crying! One of them wasn't very good at running, so another was carrying them. I think that was cheating, but that only meant it would be easier for me to tag them.

It took a few jumps, and a run, and I easily caught up to my playmates. They shrieked excitedly and ran between a pair of buildings. I laughed and jumped over them, cutting them off and tagging the biggest one first. He went flying through one of the buildings and didn't move; I don't think he expected me to catch him so quickly.

_That's not right..._

I turned to the cheaters, and laughed again. If they were going to cheat, than so was I! It was only fair after all. I summoned a glowing pink ball in my open hand, grinned, and flung it at the smaller of my playmates. They both yelled in surprise, but I just laughed. That's what they got for not playing fair!

_This is wrong… why am I doing this?_

The one carrying the smaller one fell on the ground, crying with laughter again. I jumped over and kicked them onto their back. Oh, that was a fun crunching sound! I did it again, and again, and again, until the crunching stopped. My playmate was so exhausted from laughing that they could barely breathe!

_No… no, stop! This isn't right!_

I grinned and put a foot on their head. The crunching had been fun, but if I pushed hard enough, I'd get a nice lovely snapping sound, and my playmates would send out all these fun colors all over the ground! My playmate shivered with excitement as I pushed down harder…

_No! No! Stop it!_

"Stop it!"

I screamed and shot up from bed, punching at nightmare visions. There was a loud thump, and a crash. Sanity returned to me, and I sat in bed, panting heavily as I realized that it was all just a dream. Rather, a nightmare honestly. I reached over and turned on the bedside lamp and saw what happened.

In my panic, I had lashed out, and now my left arm was currently impaled through the TV screen. I sheepishly pulled it free of the ruined television, and 'pulled' my limb back, watching it shrink and compress after it had stretched across the entire room. Once it was back in place, I rubbed my arm and let out a shaky breath.

So far, I hadn't found a limit to how malleable my body was; but consciously changing it, stretching it beyond my old normal limits was incredibly difficult. When I lashed out on instinct though…

The tv mount groaned and the entire flat screen broke free of the wall and hit the ground with an ear splitting crash. I flinched and pulled my knees up to my chest. My first night at the PRT, and I'd already caused property damage; lovely.

I glanced at the bedside clock: 2:37 AM. Lovely.

Still shaking a little, I looked down at my hand, opening and closing it as I did. There was no damage to it that I could see; just the usual pink flesh and disturbingly black fingernails. So far, I had yet to come across anything that could truly permanently hurt me. Testing an ability like that was a bit difficult though, and I was in no hurry to find out where the hard limit might be.

Of course, I was trying to (badly) distract myself from the nightmare. Every night I relived a scene like that. A twisted parody of children's games, somehow oblivious to the truth of what was going on, and yet completely and utterly aware of the atrocity I was committing. I had yet to tell anyone about the nightmares, but I had a feeling that dad knew.

I glanced again at the ruined tv on the floor, sighed, and slid out of bed. There was no way I was going back to sleep after an outburst like that. A late night snack and some tea sounded excellent right about now; I wondered if there were any twinkies left and the thought eased my anxiety.

I debated slipping on a sweater and slippers, and decided against it. I was dressed fine in my pajama shirt and sweats, and the cold didn't bother me anyway. Temperature in general seemed to just… not be a problem anymore. I registered the changes, and Boston was clearly colder than Brockton Bay but it just… didn't bug me.

My bedroom door slid open silently and I made my way back to the Ward common room. I can't say that the PRT building was abandoned, but at least in my section of the building, it felt like it. One thing that had been drilled into me once I had decided to join the Wards, was that Ward's didn't take part in late night patrols. After nine, we were off the street with no debate on the subject. Only full members of the Protectorate could operate at any hour of the day, and I wasn't really in any rush to change that. I liked my sleep, thank you very much.

I yawned at the door to the common room. My mind was still racing, but my body felt heavy and tired. My bed had been so comfy, and sleep felt so tempting, even with the promise of nightmares.

A solid metal 'thunk' startled me awake, and I realized I had nearly fallen asleep against the door. I laughed nervously, hoped no one had seen me, and placed my hand on the scanner. As a soon-to-be full member of the Wards, I had already been added into the database for non-essential rooms like the common room. Not sure how they had added my signature to the pad since I apparently lacked fingerprints now, but I chalked it up to tinkertech science.

The doors slid open with a quiet hiss and I stepped inside and went straight for the kitchen. It took all of my will not to rush the fridge and pour out its contents. My stomach rumbled its protest, but I ignored it and went for the cabinets instead. I found the tea bags and a kettle easily enough, and started some water on the electric stove.

_Then _I rushed the fridge and practically poured out its contents onto the kitchen counter. Okay, not _literally_, I didn't think I was that strong, but I might as well have. Cartons of ice cream rolled as ripped open a bag of popsicles and practically shoved them down my throat.

"Mmmm!" I giggled and bounced on my heels. So good, so sweet and chillingly refreshing, it woke me right up! I bit down and pulled the popsicle stick free of the ice and swallowed it whole. Then I opened another, rinse and repeat until I had nearly emptied the box.

As I opened my mouth wide and wrapped my tongue around a delicious tasting cherry red popsicle, I heard a voice behind me. "Um, okay, wow. Didn't expect to see _that _tonight."

I froze, and my eyes flicked to the side toward my ambusher. A guy, maybe a year or two older than me, was sitting at the island with a very confused expression on his face. He had very dark skin, and equally dark hair. His eyes were an amazingly bright blue, easily the most striking feature about him. Otherwise he was a fairly average looking african american boy.

Of course, who was I to judge anyone when it came to how they looked? Especially as I was now, with my neon blue tongue cartoonishly wrapped around a popsicle, and probably covered in a mess of popsicle juice.

I was so nervous that I wound up swallowing the entire damn popsicle whole, stick and all. The guy flinched, "Ouch, that had to hurt."

I rubbed my throat, "Er, um, not really. I'm kind of… stretchy."

A very quick look over myself alleviated my fears. I'd had enough self control to keep from ruining my clothes in my feeding frenzy, at least. Though judging by the guy's amused expression, my face was probably a literal rainbow of colors.

I grabbed a paper towel and started wiping at my face. I didn't take my eyes off him as I did, and asked, "I, um… don't think we met earlier today. I'm Taylor, the new Ward."

He smiled, "I had a feeling; you can call me Rory, or Kelvin. Either or, I'm not picky."

Oh shit.

Way to go Taylor, not only did you manage to look like an idiot in front of one of your teammates, you looked like an idiot in front of your team _leader_. I started hastily grabbing wrappers, as I felt my face burn an even deeper shade of pink.

"O-oh!" I stuttered, "Sorry, I didn't… I just needed a snack, and it can be so… just let me clean this up."

Kelvin laughed, resting his head against his hand, "Oh my god, Taylor, it's _fine_. We're fine, you don't need to freak out. I know all about your condition, I read about it when I knew you were coming. Even if I hadn't, Weld gave me a headsup, I knew what to expect."

I paused again, and didn't feel my blush go away, "Ah. Okay… I… should still clean up."

"Well yeah," he agreed, "But you don't need to freakout. I'm not some mechanical hardass that's gonna kick you out on the streets because you have a sweet tooth. Why do you think we had six boxes worth of popsicles in the fridge in the first place?"

That actually made me stop and think. That had, briefly, occurred to me before I'd started stuffing my face. But once I started eating, anything that wasn't related to the food at hand tended to get shoved into the 'not important' category of my mind.

"I thought they were for everyone?" I said tentatively.

Kelvin shrugged, "Well yeah. But I made sure we had extra, so we'd be prepared."

He looked at the score of plastic wrappers, scattered across the kitchen as if some sort of tiny condiment and dessert based war had ravaged the kitchen, and sighed, "Obviously, I made the right call."

"Sorry." I said.

"Don't sweat it," he assured me, "Everyone has their little quirks. People just have it a little rougher, with the whole power thing, but you can't really hold it against them. Besides, I've run into a lot stranger things in here than a pretty pink monster girl enjoying a late night snack."

The harsh shrill whistle of steam filled the air, and I whirled toward the tea kettle… which was still; silently sitting on the stove. Kelvin let out a stifled laugh, and I covered my arms in embarrassment. Steam had started pouring from the rows of holes lining my biceps in such quantities that it was very quickly filling the kitchen. Those tiny holes were one of the few things in my new biology I often forgot about, and I think they didn't appreciate that.

I covered them with my hands and ignored the muffled muffled whistling coming from my back and legs. Kelvin was covering his mouth and trying hard not to laugh, "Does that… happen often?" he choked.

"Only when I'm angry, I thought." I muttered quietly.

Kelvin got his laughter under control, reducing it to a quiet tittering, and grinned at me, "Okay, now that's definitely in my top twenty strangest things I've seen in here. Didn't realize I could fluster you that easy, sorry about that."

"It's fine." I grumbled, and slowly released my hands from my arms. The steam had stopped, thank _god_. I tried to ignore the reason why that had started up in the first place, and focused on an inconspicuous part of the floor instead of trying to look Kelvin in the face.

"Anyway, why are you here? It's late." I said.

He caught on to what I was saying, and I could hear the shrug in his voice, "I have insomnia. I was awake anyway, figured I'd come in and put a movie on. Easier to fall asleep in here than in my room. What about you? Insomnia another list on your conditions, or were you just craving a midnight snack?"

I reached behind me, grabbed a carton of ice cream, and pulled the top off while I debated how to answer his question. Relatively truthfully, I decided as I found a spawn and started snacking.

"Bad dreams. Couldn't sleep. Food calms me down, though god knows why. I was a pretty modest eater before… this." I gestured at my whole body, and shoved a big spoonful of ice cream in my mouth as if to emphasize my point.

Kelvin looked at me sympathetically, "Sorry if this is prying, but… is it you're trigger event? I know some people, especially early on, can have a lot of trauma related to it. I can pull a few strings and get you setup with our therapist, if you'd like."

I made a face and shook my head, "No thank you. I appreciate the offer, but… I'd rather just settle in before I left anyone start poking around in my head."

He frowned, but nodded, "Alright. Offers on the table though, if you ever change your mind."

I sighed, and swallowed another scoop of ice cream. Mmm, moose tracks. It was like vanilla with a fun little surprise in every bite.

The kettle started to whistle, this time it was definitely the kettle, and I turned towards it, stopping for a moment to look at Kelvin, "You want any?"

"Not a big fan, but I'll take a cup if you're offering."

I nodded, and grabbed two mugs from the cabinets. Tea was odd in that my sweet tooth seemed to have no affect on my tastes when it came to the drink. It was one of the few things in my life I could consider completely normal and untouched. Needless to say, I held onto that steaming mug like my life depended on it.

I offered it to Kelvin, who graciously accepted it before jerking a thumb at the tv. "You wanna watch with me? I don't get a lot of company at this hour."

I paused, taken aback by the offer. So far, everyone at the Boston PRT and Ward's had been… nice. Not just polite, but actually genuinely nice, and this threw me for a loop. I was used to, at most, one genuinely nice person per organization. Now it seemed I couldn't take two steps before tripping over someone with genuine human decency. Of course a cynical part of my mind thought he might just be offering this as a chance to lead me on, as a sick joke by making me think he'd want into my pants.

Another, far less cynical part of my mind thought the exact same thing without the joke, and my body threatened to let loose some steam again.

I shook my head free of the clouds and looked at him seriously, "It depends, what kind of movies?"

"Ever heard of Star Trek?"

I wanted to go back to the nightmares. Anything was preferable to the horror that I had been dragged into once morning had come around.

Weld had warned me ahead of time that I was going to meet with the head of the PRT PR Department in the morning, so I had gone in expecting the worst. Evidently, my expectations needed some tuning, I hadn't been prepared for this.

Glenn Chambers, the head of the PR department, was an… odd man. His sense of fashion could best be described as a disaster, and yet despite it, he had an air about him that kept catching me off guard. He was intense and laser focused, completely at odds with how he presented himself, and it left me reeling for the start of our meeting.

The fact that he'd had his assistants poke, prod, and measure me while he asked me simple and benign questions didn't help. Yes I know _why _they did it, but that didn't mean I enjoyed it. At least my nightmares were predictable; standing up on the pedestal, I didn't know what to expect next from Mr. Chambers.

He rubbed his chin as he looked me over. I had to be quite a sight; I was dressed plainly as always, grey sweatshirt and jeans, and cheap sneakers. The contrast with my physical appearance definitely was enough to make anyone double take when they saw me.

"Hm, I won't deny, Miss Hebert. You're unique appearance opens as many potential doors as it closes. On the one hand, anyone that sees you certainly won't forget you, but this is as much of a problem as it is a boon."

I cocked my head slightly to the side, only for one of his assistants to make an annoyed noise, firmly move it back in place, and resume measuring me. In response, I flicked him in the face with the end of my tendril, and earned another grunt of annoyance that made me smirk just a little.

I swear, Mr. Chambers eyes flashed at our exchange. "Take that, for example. You understand, Miss Hebert, that your every action will be closely watched and scrutinized by the public, yes? An average cape is watched like a hawk during their debut. Capes like you and Weld are going to forever be held under laser focus."

"I...understand that." I said, and felt butterflies in my stomach. I think a part of me had always understood that, but having someone spell it out was unpleasant.

Mr. Chambers nodded and his expression softened, "Good. You seem like an intelligent young woman, that will make this easier."

He folded his arms, "Now, back to business. From what I understand, your abilities allow you to manifest articles of clothing as need be, is that correct?"

I felt the blush on my face again, and coughed nervously, "Er, yes and no? I have manifested _an _outfit, but if I can make others, I haven't figured it out yet."

"May we see it? It could give us an idea for your future costume."

"Oh god, do I have to?" I asked, making no effort to hide the embarrassment in my voice.

Mr. Chambers face grew more serious, "Your costume and cape identity may very well define who you are to the public for the rest of your life. And given the uniqueness of your situation, your cape identity will be who you are outside of private interactions. As far as the rest of the world is concerned, Taylor Hebert no longer exists."

There were the butterflies again. But again, Mr. Chambers made an excellent point. I was in the cape equivalent of witness protection. I knew going in that I would be assigned a new identity and that to the world, I would be presented as a Case 53. On an intellectual level, I knew this, but it was still hard to fathom that I could never really take the mask off. If I ever just wanted to go in public, be it for a food run, to visit the library, or visit dad at work, the world would know me as a cape.

I sighed, "Okay, okay, I understand. Can I use the changing room?"

Mr. Chambers nodded and gestured at his assistants. They finally released me, and I scurried inside. Once the door clicked shut, I locked it and stripped off my clothes. I avoided looking at the full length mirror included inside the changing room, and shut my eyes tight. Suppressing the 'clothes' I had first woken up in was much harder than letting them take shape over my body.

My skin tingled and churned, and I felt 'cloth' settling over my frame. It was bizarre, because I knew for a fact that the clothes were just an extension of myself. It may look, act and feel like clothes, but when I had taken scissors to them to test it, it had revealed that no, they were in fact made of the same material as I was. And yet, I definitely didn't feel naked as they settled into place. Just really, really stupid.

I opened the door and stepped out, arms spread. "Okay, here it is. Happy?"

One of his assistants covered their mouth in a mix of horror and amusement. "Oh my god, that's terrible."

I was inclined to agree.

Oversized baggy white pants hung from my waist, supported only by a black belt with a golden belt buckle, and ending at a pair of bright yellow boots. A black vest lined with golden trim hung from my shoulders, with nothing underneath it. The fact that even in my new form, I had no real assets to accentuate it this was a bitter pill that I refused to swallow. My hands were covered in hideous yellow mittens and a purple cape was loosely tied around my neck and fell to the back of my knees. If Glenn Chambers was a fashion disaster, then I was an atrocity.

Even his normally unflappable expression paused at the sight of me, and he scratched at his temple with a sheepish look on his face, "Oh my, that's… quite something. I think we can safely rule this outfit out as a possibility. I am many things, but I am not a cruel man. Before you change back though, may I ask you a quick question Miss Hebert?"

I folded my arms over my (nonexistent!) chest and hunched forward, "Yeah, sure, make it quick please."

"Did you ever _want _to be a hero?"

I blinked, again thrown off my expectations. Yet, I had no trouble answering Mr. Chambers in the slightest. "Yes. Of course. My… friend and I used to stay up all night talking about what we would do, our codenames, our powers. I used to be a real cape groupie for the longest time. Being able to help, to protect people from danger is something I've wanted to do for a long time."

He nodded, in that knowing way, and waved me off, "You're free to change back, I just had to sate my curiosity."

I wasted no time rushing back inside, willing away that _hideous _outfit, and pulling on my plain and sane clothing. When I stepped back out, I noticed that the assistants were gone, and that Mr. Chamber's was sitting on the pedestal I had been standing on.

He rubbed his hands on his knees and sighed, "We have the measurements we need for your costume designs, they weren't needed for these next parts, though I assure you they're just as important."

I bit my lip, "Okay, how important?"

"Miss Hebert, know first that you have the final call on this, but… I think it would be in your best interest if we resumed your education in a public setting."

My heart skipped a beat and my blood ran cold, "I'm sorry, _what_!?"

"Let me explain." He interrupted, with a surprisingly firm voice.

I kept from interrupting him, but only barely. My blood was quickly warming to its boiling point. Was he _insane_!? Why on earth would I _ever _go back to school, especially looking how I did!?

"As you are, Miss Hebert, people are going to find it harder to understand you. To sympathize with you. The greatest challenge monstrous, and I apologize for the term, capes face, is fear and mistrust from the public. You aren't like them, you remind them that cape's are _different_. People are afraid of things that are outside the mold. My job, is to fix that, to make sure that people see you simply as a person who happens to look a little different. This is why our other two case 53's, I believe you've met them, both attend public school together. By seeing them not just in a work setting, but struggling through the same trials and tribulations that the average person goes through, the people in this city are more likely to trust and empathize with Weld and Hunch, instead of ostracize them."

"You do know about the school I'm from, right?" I asked. I didn't disagree with his point, but the idea of putting myself out there like that again genuinely scared me. If I went back to school only to find another Trio ready to make my life hell…

"And that's why I'm leaving the choice in your hands." Glenn said. "We can't make you attend public school. Your education ultimately falls to the decision of you and your father. But, I felt I needed to recommend this to you, specifically because of your past. At the very least, give it a chance, put yourself out there so that the people can see you as a person. If you do, and you feel at all that it isn't working or that the situation may develop similar to the one you were in at Winslow, tell us, inform us. The PRT and Protectorate exist not just to protect the innocent and powerless, but to protect capes from the public. We are a resource, don't hesitate to use us."

Like I said, I wanted to go back to the nightmares.

I swallowed and nodded slowly, "Okay. I'll… think about it, Mr. Chambers. But I don't promise anything."

"That's all I ask." Glenn said. He pushed himself up to his feet and dusted himself off, "Now, onto another important matter. I gave your name some thought, and while I have nothing concrete, I definitely have a theme picked out for you. We can work out the basics, and should have something ready for your public appearance on Friday."

Thankful for the change in subject, I smiled a little, "Okay, humor me. What name have you picked out?"

He grinned, "How does… Djinn, sound?"

**A/N: I'm back! I have this story on the brain at the moment, figured I'd churn out another chapter and see how it was. I'm... fairly happy with it. Not 100% on the bits with Glenn, but I actually really like how I introduced and setup Rory/Kelvin. He's sort of grown into a shadow (heh) of Grue as I fleshed him out, or a foil I suppose.**

**Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed the chapter, feel free to leave your comments and criticism down below and I'll see you guys next time!**


	4. Room and Ward 1-3

**Room and Ward 1.3**

_"Let the record show that Miss Hebert just passed ten tons on the pull strength test." _a voice crackled over the intercom. _"Miss Hebert, as a reminder, if you start to feel overwhelmed, do not hesitate to press the emergency stop trigger."_

I grunted my acknowledgement, flashing a look at the two buttons on either end of the handles I had firmly grasped in both hands. After my appointment with Glenn, I had been ushered into the Power Testing Range. I was told there were larger and more specialized facilities across the country to truly test my limits, but Boston had some of the largest and well funded on the east coast, just behind New York.

We'd been at this for about an hour now, brushing up on details that the ENE branch hadn't had time to test me on. As I had gone through each test, I started to wonder if they might regret trading me away. I was incredibly fast now, they'd seen me break sixty miles per hour in the speedway in under three seconds. I could bend steel into circles, shatter concrete with a good punch, and now I was pulling the equivalent of a truck, and I hadn't even broken a sweat. As odd looking as it was, my new body kind of kicked ass.

_"Keep this up, and you'll break Weld's record." _Erica added over the intercom, clearly amused. She had shown up right as I started the pull test, and seemed content to provide a running commentary. I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it a little.

A grin spread over my face, "Oh?" I grunted, and took another slow step forward, "And what _is _his record?"

_"I dunno, I think it's like twenty tons or something? They never let us go to the top of our limits, something about a 'risk of horrific physical injury'."_

_"Miss Evens," _I heard one of the...testers? PRT People? One of the Researchers scolded her, _"We are content to let you watch, but please keep the chatterrunning commentary to a minimum while the test is in progress."_

I looked over to my left at the observation window. Certain tests, like this one, had their own private rooms built in case of a mechanical failure. If the steel cables I was hauling snapped, there was enough force behind them that they'd probably take a limb off. So everyone that wasn't me was safely stationed behind a nice solid metal wall with shatterproof glass acting as their only view in. That and probably a dozen or so camera's hidden around the room. Those were the ones I noticed when I walked in anyway.

"Your last name is… Evens?"

Silence over the intercom. I felt something I hadn't felt since before I'd started going to high school. A small spark of harmless mischievous intent that I found difficult to extinguish. I shook my head and frowned a little. Warmth followed the feeling and filled my chest. What was happening to me, was I being affected by my powers?

I shifted my focus to my new goal, beating Weld's record, and ignored the feeling. "I'm ready for more weight!" I yelled.

_"Understood Miss Hebert, increasing weight to eleven tons."_

I heard the sound of a door opening and glanced toward the observation room. Kelvin walked in, dressed casually. Erica turned toward the sound and rolled her eyes. I don't think she realized she was leaning on the intercom button. _"Hello, Rory. What a surprise seeing you here today."_

_"I'm just inspecting the troops."_ he replied, casually. I felt my face flush and I ducked my head. I had changed into a tank top and sweatpants for the testing, and even though I knew I hadn't been sweating from my workout, I still looked myself over for sweat stains.

_"Ugh, you need to stop watching those stupid Aleph movies."_

_"You know you love it."_

_"You're handsome, but you're nowhere near as funny as you think you are."_

_"Ah, but you can't ignore my charm anyway, can you Erica?"_

Wait.

Wait.

_What!?_

My mind raced, jumping to a thousand conclusions at once, none of them particularly pleasant. My concentration shattered with an ear splitting crack followed by high pressured whistling. It took me a moment to realize that the noise was not my mind breaking; I had lost focus and the cables I'd been pulling had snapped back in an instant, and torn both my arms off in the process. Oh, and I was steaming again, though this time it was definitely anger.

_"Oh my god!" _someone screamed.

_"Miss Hebert, please, remain calm! We'll have medical staff down as soon as possible!"_

_"Taylor, are you okay!?" _that was Kelvin and Erica at once.

I set my jaw hard and glared at them both (mostly Kelvin), and sneered, "I'm fine. Really, perfectly okay."

The door rooms opened and several test people ran in with concern on their faces, along with Erica and Kelvin. "Where the fuck are those medics!?" someone yelled.

The only one not freaking out was Erica. Obviously she could tell from my reaction, that having my limbs torn off hadn't really phased me. In fact, I had barely even felt it when it happened, even though this was the first time I had lost a limb.

Christ, how weird was my life, right?

"Someone find her arms, where did they go?"

"Miss Hebert, I… you're not bleeding."

I turned and looked down at one of the researchers, "Well… yeah. You guys did read the part of my file that said 'nonexistent human biology' right? The guys at Brockton Bay are pretty sure I'm just living goop."

"Aiiieeeee!" someone screamed, and we all turned to the far wall. The researchers had evidently found my arms, and as I had expected, they were making their way back towards me in a weird oozing crawling motion. This didn't surprise me, I was familiar with how… autonomous my body could be when I wasn't directly attached to my bits and pieces, especially after an unfortunate incident with a door and my head tendril.

If a part of my body was separated from me, it would automatically try to return to me so I could heal. I could feel their presence and sensations on the edge of my mind and if I focused, I knew I could take control of them. No point now though, they both oozed up to my feet. One grabbed my ankle, and smoothly melted into my skin and vanished. At the same time, my right arm reformed, and I grabbed the remaining limb and lifted it to my left stump, where it quickly reattached itself.

When the process finished, I looked at everyone surrounding me, and felt decidedly sheepish. Several of the researcher's looked pale, and one even ran out of the room and retched into a trash can. I closed my eyes, sighed, and said, "I'd like a break please."

I was out the door before I heard any response, taking special care to avoid Kelvin and Erica. Once I was in the hall, I grabbed at my 'hair' and let out a noise of frustration.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

The moment a boy showed me any sort of positive attention and my mind had jumped straight to… well things it shouldn't have. Best case scenario, he had just been trying to be nice. Worst case scenario, he and Erica were a thing and he just so happened to be one of those guys with like six different girlfriends. Well, I assumed there were guys like that, I'd read about them anyway. The point was, I'd made an assumption, and looked like a fool for it.

I retreated to my room, my safe place. Somewhere I could be hidden from the watching, judging eyes of the entire PRT and Wards. All too familiar memories of Winslow flashed through my mind as my dorm room door slid open and I rushed inside. My breathing felt short, panicked, my chest tight. I sat on the floor, my back against my bed and stared at the door, breathing frantically as a dozen scenarios flashed through my mind.

Was it an elaborate joke? Had Erica set this up just so she and Kelvin could laugh at how much of an idiot I was? Did she even know about our movie night? If she did and it wasn't a joke, was she going to hate me like everyone else did? Oh god please no, this was exactly what I was afraid of when I joined the Ward's, stupid high school drama bullshit!

Steam poured from me in rivers, and I clutched at my head, grinding my teeth together hard. Emotions flashed through my mind in a whirlwind, anger, embarrassment, hate, and depression all came together to assault me. I wanted to kick my door down and scream at them for messing with me like that, to make them know just how _hurt _I felt!

I growled and glared at the door. "Stupid… stupid…"

There was a loud knock at the door, and my world snapped back into place. Suddenly I was able to wrestle my emotions back under control, and I no longer felt the seething flow of bitter anger that had been rolling over me. I looked around my room, amazed at the literal fog bank it had been engulfed in.

"Oh my god…" I rested a hand on my head. Maybe a visit to the therapist wouldn't be such a bad idea.

Again, there was a knock at my door. My head jerked up in surprise, "Y-yes? Who is it?"

"Hey Taylor, it's Erica. You have a minute to talk? You rushed out of there pretty quickly."

_She made you angry, don't talk to her._ A small voice whispered in my head. I tried to ignore it; I was a rational young woman, I was not going to turn into a vindictive drama queen over a boy I just met. Even if he did have beautiful eyes, great taste in movies, and was super nice. I shook my head furiously and more steam puffed into the air.

"Give me a minute!" I called, and got to my feet. I walked up to the door and opened it, letting clouds of steam roll out into the hall.

Erica blinked and stepped back, waving curls of it away from her face, "Whew, it's a sauna in there. Were ya lucky enough to get your own private shower?"

I looked down at her impassively. I would deal with this like an adult, not like a hormonal teenager. Wait, did I even have hormones anymore? As far as I knew, I didn't even have a proper nervous system, how would that-?

Focus! Adult, rational, focused young woman, that's what you are, Taylor.

I took in a deep breath, and said calmly, "So are you and Kelvin an item?"

Erica blinked, looked up at me, and laughed out loud, "Haha! Oh god, that's… that's good…That's funny Taylor."

When I didn't laugh, her expression shifted from amused to amazed, "Oh my god, you're serious. Is that why you were upset?"

I shrugged my shoulders, and Erica sighed, rubbing her forehead with the palm of her hand, "No, we're not an item; Taylor, Rory is aromantic, he doesn't _do _relationships. At best he _might _try to get into your pants, but the guy is absolutely clueless when it comes to talking to girls."

She paused and rubbed her chin, "Actually, now that I think about it, maybe he's just really deep in the closet. Wouldn't surprise me."

My mind was spinning now, and I felt my face flushing again. I tentatively tapped my fingers together, "Oh, so that was just… friendly banter then?"

She snorted, "You think you're the first person that tried to hook up with him? Yeah, it's kind of a game. First one to make the other blush wins. Have to keep it PG around the staff and kids though."

My face must've been pretty amusing because she laughed again and patted my shoulder… er, bicep. I was easily two feet taller than her and she had to reach up on her toes to do that much. I rubbed my head awkwardly and stared down at my feet; at least it wasn't some cruel joke being played on me, I could take solace in that.

Erica's face twisted to concern, "Jeez, Brockton Bay was not kind to you, was it?"

"It's a shithole." I hissed through clenched teeth. I quickly squashed my anger before it could flare up, and ran my hands over my face. "Oh god, this was not how I wanted my day to go."

At least Erica seemed sympathetic to my plight. "You wanna talk about it?"

"I'm not talking about Brockton Bay."

"I meant anything. I know how nasty things are for new capes, it can be good to vent." she looked past me into my steam filled room, and smirked. "Pun intended."

I snorted, "I'm just not used to… this. I think I'm still reeling from all the changes, and it's making me over sensitive."

That or it was my new body, neither option was particularly appealing. I had lived in Brockton Bay all my life, and while it was definitely a shithole, it had still been home. Moving was harder than I thought, and I still felt like I was just living in a dream. Complete with embarrassing clothes and horrific maiming.

Erica let out a sigh that was filled with relief, "Gonna be honest, this is kind of a relief. I thought you were freaked out over the being disarmed like that. The 'freaking out over new powers' phase is never fun to help a cape through."

I arched a brow at her, "You sound experienced with that."

"I've been here since I was ten. I'm the most senior member of the Ward's." she waved a finger in the air in mock celebration.

I looked at her with newfound interest, "Since you were ten? Why aren't you the leader then?"

"Because I'm an ugly abrasive bitch." she shrugged, "I've also turned it down. I don't like the whole leadership thing."

I could understand that. The idea of being in charge of a group, having to handle all the clashing personalities and powers while also keeping them alive and safe while fighting villains… yeah the thought of it made my stomach churn. That or I was getting hungry again; I wondered idly if the cafeteria would be open before shelving the thought. A more important thought came to mind.

"So…" I asked, making no attempt to hide my nervousness, "What did you tell Rory?" that felt weird to say. He was the team leader, so it made sense to stick with his cape name.

"Hmm? Oh, that you probably were stressed and that I'd handle you." Erica said. "If Weld was here, I'd let him handle you but he's on patrol so here I am, here to lend you a helping hand after you were disarmed and making sure you can keep a firm grip on reality."

I narrowed my eyes, thoroughly unamused, "How long were you thinking of those puns?"

She grinned, "Oh if I had to go out on a limb, probably the moment you lost your arms. A good pun can help a lot I've found."

That was highly debatable, but I didn't have enough experience with 'humor' to debate her on the merits of jokes. I settled for folding my arms and shaking my head instead. "Well, I do appreciate you coming to check on me and clearing things up. I should probably talk to Kelvin and… I dunno, let him know I'm okay?"

"Tell him you were annoyed by the flirting." Erica suggested. "Like I said, the man is totally clueless with girls; he doesn't _get _us. He can handle us fine if he ignores the funbags, but the moment he looks at our chests, his mind draws a blank."

She made a point to look at my nearly flat chest and made another impish grin. I scowled at her, "One word, and we'll find out just how strong I really am."

"I didn't say a thing." she raised her hands in surrender.

I folded my arms a little tighter around my chest and sighed, "You are right though, I should let him know I don't appreciate it. You're sure he'll be okay with it?"

"Oh absolutely. He might be terrible with girls, but he's leader for a reason." Erica assured me. Her eyes lit up suddenly and she grabbed my arm.

"Wait, before you do that though, have you met any of the Protectorate members on base yet?" she asked.

I shook my head; I knew that, unlike in Brockton Bay, the Protectorate had no 'official' HQ in Boston. They operated out of the various PRT departments, and worked very closely with them and the police. So they had no equivalent of the Rig, which was a little disappointing; I always wanted to see the inner workings of the Rig, and never got to even when I joined the Wards.

Erica's grin returned, "Okay, then you should totally come with me. Fae is going to _love _meeting you."

I cocked my head to the side, "Who's Fae?"

* * *

As it turned out, Fae was the resident tinker of the Boston branch of the Protectorate. Erica skimmed on the details, but apparently she was a support tinker. Nothing truly combat focused, but a lot of her gear saw use by the Protectorate in Boston, and she was apparently developing into something of a minor celebrity. Bastion may be the leader of the Protectorate, but Fae had very quickly become the face.

Her workshop dominated the majority of the top floor of the PRT HQ, and was locked behind several blast doors with enough security to make a bank jealous. Erica's clearance got us through without issue, and we stepped into a basketball court sized workshop. Now, when I thought of a tinker workshop, I typically expected a lot of half finished machines hanging from chains, maybe counters covered in designs and projects and a general 'lived in' feel. Blame Hollywood, but that was the general perception I think a lot of people had of the stereotypical Tinker lab.

Fae's lab was the opposite. It was a spotless near clinical white, with wide open spaces and counters and tables only lining the walls. Soft LED lights illuminated the room, casting soft shadows against the floor and walls. Along the counters and tables, tools were neatly arranged in categorical organization, typically largest to smallest. There were a few unfinished projects, but most of them were suspended mid air somehow, and were typically surrounded by machines running some sort of diagnostic. Orchestral music, I couldn't figure out what kind, quietly played in the background over the humming and beeping of the machines.

Erica cleared her throat and cupped her hands to her mouth, "Hey Fae, you in here!?"

There was a crash of tools and a woman yelped. I looked around for any sign of her, and saw nothing. Maybe she was testing a cloaking device of some kind. The voice cursed, and I realized where it was coming from and slowly looked upwards.

In a practical mirror image of the floor, there was a near symmetrical recreation of the lab built into the ceiling, complete with floating incomplete devices. One such device, an odd looking loom of some kind, was manned by a very tall and lithe young woman, maybe in her twenties? She had pale skin, bright blue eyes and her bright red hair was styled into a pixie cut. A long blue cloak and hood hung from her shoulders and she wore an armored bodysuit that was a slightly lighter shade of blue. A golden belt was wrapped around her waist along with a pair of shimmering boots and bracers. Lines of some sort of language ran up her side in a circuitry pattern and pulsed with power. If I had to guess, this was Fae.

She sighed and dropped whatever she was working on and looked… down? Up? At us. "Hello Erica, you startled- Oh!"

Fae jumped to her feet when she saw me and her eyes sparkled with unbridled curiosity, "Oh my gosh! You must be Taylor! One moment, please, I'm so sorry for the mess!"

I looked around the spotless workshop, then back up at her, "It's… um, no problem. You're Fae, right?"

"Yes, yes, that's me!" she nodded frantically and adjusted a dial built into her belt buckle. She bent her knees and pushed off the ceiling with slow gentle grace, floating through the air as though it were water. Once she was a foot or so off the ground, she adjusted the dial again and gravity resumed its hold on her.

The moment her feet touched the ground, she rushed up to me with an almost manic grin on her face, "Oh it is so good to finally meet you Taylor! I can call you Taylor, right?" she asked, excitedly shaking my hand as she spoke. "I read all about your file, everything you went through at Brockton, you poor thing, I'm so glad you're here with us! Has everything been okay? The Ward's are you treating you well I hope, you're getting enough to eat, have you met the other members of the Protectorate yet, has Director Armstrong already introduced himself to you? I see you've met Erica, thank you for bringing her Erica, I've been in a fugue the past few days, this is a good distraction! Oh look at me, I'm rambling again, so sorry, once I get going I just have a hard time stopping!"

The whole time she never stopped shaking my hand, to the point that I was afraid she was going to tear it off. My eyes felt like they were spinning in their sockets and once she stopped talking and finally released my hand, the entire world looked like it was moving in slow motion compared to her.

She bounced back a step and clasped her hands together in front of her waist, popping up and down on her heels with that excited smile on her face. I realized she was finally letting me speak; my tendril twitched and I rubbed my hand to get some feeling back into it.

"Er, well to answer your questions in order: yes, you can call me Taylor, everything is fine so far, the Ward's are treating me fine, I am actually still hungry, Director Armstrong met me on arrival, and you're the first Protectorate member I've met."

Fae snorted, "Oh well that figures. Bastion's too 'high and mighty' to come off patrol and say hi to a new Ward. I'm so glad to hear you're being treated well though, the last week must have been insane for you."

"You have no idea." I muttered.

"Oh I can imagine, I've been there." Fae laughed, "I was just graduating from the Ward's when Erica joined us, she's always done such a good job introducing new ward's to everyone!"

I glanced at Erica, who suddenly seemed interested in her shoes. Her face had turned an angry shade of red and white splotches lighting up her acne scars. "Fae, please…"

"Am I rambling again?" Fae asked.

We both nodded.

Her shoulders slumped, "Oh… dang it. Sorry, I get so excited sometimes. Well, I assume if you brought Taylor here, you want me to get her fitted for a gravity belt, right?"

I blinked, "I'm sorry, a… what?"

Erica covered her face and groaned while Fae bounced excitedly, "My gravity belt's! It's my speciality, I can build devices that manipulate gravitational forces in a small area. No more than a few feet normally, and the power requirements are _crazy_! I did some work with Armsmaster, total asshole by the way, to figure out a smaller power source and once we got that figured out, I was able to start making gravity belts for everyone! Basically, I can give you the ability to fly! It's _super _useful, but you do need permission from central to use them in the field. Some of the parents get nervous about you kids using tinker tech in the field. I mean I get it but if they're nervous about you getting hurt, why put you in the Ward's in the first place, it's not like there aren't schools or tutors out there that cater to parahuman kids or something, it just seems really short sighted to me, ya know?"

And on she went. I turned to Erica as Fae went off on a tangent about the place of Parahuman teenagers in modern cape society. I am fairly certain I was glowering at Erica, because she looked equal parts amused and terrified. "You brought me here just for this, didn't you?"

She smiled nervously, "Everyone has to suffer through it at least once Taylor."

* * *

**A/N: So headsup, I won't do the paragraph long ramblings EVERY TIME Fae appears, in case anyone was worried. That aside, I hope you guys liked her, she is a lot of fun to write and I have some amusing bits planned for her. As for the rest of the chapter, we got some powers in action, a bit of an expansion on Kelvin/Rory and Glacia/Erica. Hope I did well with those two. **

**Sidenote, if anyone has better ideas for the 'flirting' between those two, I am all ears. My flirting game is _awful _and I am well aware it needs fixing. Unfortunately my editor decided to actually go to sleep at a decent hour for once, so the edited version of this chapter will probably not go up till later tomorrow. **

**All of that aside, I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, please let me know your thoughts and criticisms down below, and I'll see you all next Monday!  
**


	5. Room and Ward 1-4

**Room and Ward 1.4**

After my visit to Fae, the rest of my day was slow by comparison. I had more paperwork to fill out, and when I wasn't doing that, I was taking emergency first aid classes. Wards were required to have knowledge in basic first aid, along with a full education of police and emergency services protocols. We weren't expected to fight, but if the adults were dragged into a brawl with a super villain, we would be put on civilian evacuation duty, and the number of different scenarios that fell under that were truly staggering.

By the end of the day, my brain felt like it was on fire and I happily fell into bed and went to sleep. I had no nightmares that night, but that was hardly a surprise; they were sporadic and random. There was no pattern to them, and there were times when a perfectly good dream would suddenly shift into a nightmare without warning, or vice versa.

On Wednesday morning, I was very reluctant to get out of bed. Good sleep was a rare commodity, and my bed was _so soft and warm_. But my sense of responsibility (and alarm clock) pulled me out of bed and I roused for the day.

After I thoroughly cleaned out the cafeteria again, I realized that I didn't actually know where I was supposed to go next. I had more first aid lessons in the afternoon, but until then I actually had free time leading up to them. That wasn't something I expected so soon, and it threw me for a loop. I could study for my lessons of course, but there was only so many hours you could spend going over basic first aid before it became monotonous; besides, I had a good memory, that stuff was easy to learn and remember.

Power testing was out too. After I'd been disarmed, the techs had postponed any testing until they fixed the pull machine. Apparently the sudden release from my distraction had caused some minor damage and they wanted to make sure it was fixed before letting me at it or any other equipment. So that was out, and left me at a total loss for what to do with myself.

Thankfully, as I left the ruins of the cafeteria behind me, I was intercepted by Weld at the entrance. "Ah, there you are, just the girl I was looking for."

"There's still food in the cafeteria, I promise I didn't eat all of it," I said quickly. The dirty looks the cafeteria staff were starting to give me every time I showed up was enough to tell me that I might need to tone it down a little.

Weld blinked, "Uh, oh. No, this isn't about that actually. I was going to see if you wanted to join us in the gym."

Now it was my turn to blink: I knew about the local gym. It dominated the second floor of the building, and I had walked by it on my way to the communal shower. I hadn't actually had a reason to go _to _the gym yet though; I'd been busy, and if yesterday's power testing was any indication, basic gym equipment wasn't going to make me any stronger or physically fit.

_He's inviting you to hang out. Don't throw it away, you idiot!_ I thought.

Out loud I said, "Um, yeah. Sure. I can do… gym things."

_Nailed it._

He smiled, "Great. You wanna meet us there, or…?"

"Oh, no, I'm… I'm good. I can head up now." Not like I had anything better to do, and I wasn't very heavily dressed either. Oh sure, outside Boston was slowly turning into a frozen hellscape, but inside the PRT was a bastion of warmth. Though, like the cold, heat didn't bother me that much; I wasn't even sure if I _could _sweat.

With no excuses to put it off, I followed Weld up to the gym in relative silence, fidgeting the entire way. This time, I knew I was overreacting. At Winslow, I had very quickly learned that silence meant someone was plotting something. If everyone was chatting, then the attention was off of me, but if everyone went silent, it meant that a prank of some kind was on its way. I knew that all the way in Boston, in the PRT building, that I was being silly, but old habits die hard.

The nervous edge didn't leave until we walked into the gym and I saw some of the other Wards. The triplets were there, along with Hunch; no sign of Kelvin or Glacia. There was a fifth teen, a lean pale-skinned guy with dark hair and dark eyes. He was all ripcord muscle and had claimed one of the treadmills. If I had to guess, he was the elusive final member of the Wards, Link.

I had been doing a little more research on my teammates since arriving at the PRT. Best guess with Link, was that he could bind two points together. No one knew what the prerequisite was for that ability, but rumor had it that the bindingss were unbreakable. If you wanted to go anywhere, you were dragging whatever you were bound to with you. I imagined that if he had to physically touch someone to use it, he was a pretty situational player in the Wards; if he wasn't, he'd probably be one of the first people targeted in a fight. Neither option would be very good.

If he noticed or cared about our arrival, it didn't show through his focus on running. The triplets, however, were on us within seconds. "Hey Taylor, how're your arms!?" Nicholas said, big grin on his face. Even though they were identical triplets, I could tell them apart by their hair styles. Nicholas had long wild hair, Alfonso had average length hair with both sides shaved down, and Carlos had short spiked hair.

Beside me, Weld covered his face with his hands and sighed, while Alfonso raised a hand ready to cuff his brother upside the head. I beat them both to it. "Eh, they're okay. I've been feeling a little more handy since the accident."

Please laugh…

The boy snorted and grinned triumphantly at her brothers, "See? I told you she had a sense of humor!"

"You hand someone a pun like that, anyone could make a joke off it." Carlos noted quietly.

His brothers paid him no mind, too busy arguing with themselves again. I took this as my cue to slowly edge around them back to Weld. "Are they always like this?" I whispered.

"Constantly. Without end." he groaned.

He took a deep breath and straightened up with a smile on his face, "They'll be at it for a while."

I glanced at the squabbling siblings (by now Carlos had been dragged in again) and nodded sagely. "I'll keep my distance."

Then I bit the bullet and asked the obvious question. "So… what do I do here? This all looks like pretty standard gym equipment, and with my powers they're not really going to be much of a challenge."

Also, I had no idea how to actually do a workout. Gyms weren't exactly common in Brockton Bay, and even if they were, we couldn't have afforded a membership with only dad's salary. The best I could've hoped for back home was daily runs, and that at best would have upped my cardio and stripped some of the fat off my old body. Now, I wasn't even sure if my body had any fat to burn.

"Oh, no, I wasn't bringing you here for a workout." Weld explained. "Glacia and Kelvin are on patrol today, and I know you're not scheduled for any classes until one. So I figured I'd give you a crash course on self defense."

I cocked my head to the side. "Wait, you mean that's not standard with the rest of the training?"

Hunch let out a bitter laugh, "Hah! Fuck no, the Youth Guard has the Protectorate by the balls; nevermind that we have powers that let some of us throw cars around, make ice golems, or heal from any injury. No no, somehow knowing how to protect ourselves is just too much for them to handle."

Weld shot Hunch a look that the boy ignored, then sighed and looked at me, "Crude as he is, Hunch is right. Legally, the Protectorate can't make us take self defense courses; it requires guardian permission. The Youth Guard has gotten the entire process buried under so much paperwork that it can take weeks to get someone certified for classes under the best circumstances."

A grin spread over his face, "But, they can't do anything about us taking classes on our own. So I took it upon myself to start training in different martial arts and then offer those lessons to everyone else here, since not everyone can afford private instruction."

"And now you're offering it to me." I finished.

He shrugged, "More or less. I've found that the stronger a cape is, the better it is for them to learn a martial art of some kind. They're all about self control and discipline, which are very important when you have the strength to knock someone's head off with a single punch."

I thought back to yesterday, and nodded my agreement. "Okay, that makes sense. So, how are we going to do this?"

He jerked a thumb behind him, "There's an attached dojo, private rooms. PRT agents practice in there, it's good for what we need. I figured we'd get you started on the basics today and see how you do. I can figure out a lesson plan with my teacher once I've got a feel for how you hold yourself."

The 'dojo' was nearly as large as the gym itself, which was already pretty large. It was lined wall to wall with training mats, with only a few exposed bits of floor for foot traffic. One section of wall was lined with training dummies and punching bags, and the rest of the room was dedicated to training mats. Weld led me over to the dummies, stopping only to take his shoes off at the edge of the mat, and I did the same.

He put his hands on his hips and smiled at me, "Alright, so before we get started; do you have any fighting experience?"

"None." I answered immediately. "Unless you count being bullied as experience."

His smile faltered, and I saw a flash of sympathy in his eyes. "Right. Well then, this might actually be easier. Teaching someone to fight when they have their own ideas on it is a lot harder than teaching someone with no idea. So, before we get down to brass tacks, I want you to throw a few punches at this dummy. Just really wail on it; I'll tell you when to stop."

I looked at said dummy, which was actually at about my height; he had probably adjusted it before coming down to get me. I wondered how many giants came through the Protectorate that required adjustable training dummies for people over seven feet tall. That seemed like a rare condition, but here-

Focus Taylor!

I raised my fists like a boxer, and threw a few quick and awkward jabs at the dummy. Even though I had no idea what I was doing, or maybe because of it, I hit the dummy hard enough to nearly knock it over after the third hit. Frankly, I was surprised; if I could pull over ten tons, that dummy must've been nailed to the floor for me to not send it flying.

Yet it remained standing even as I pounded on it for a solid minute. At exactly sixty seconds, Weld called out, "Time!"

I stopped and let my arms drop to my sides while looking at him expectantly. His expression wasn't what I'd call disappointed, more unsurprised. He rubbed his chin, looking me up and down, then nodded as he came to some sort of decision.

"Well, you definitely weren't kidding when you said you've never been in a fight before." he started.

I bit my lip, resisting the urge to reply with sarcasm, and let him continue. "But, you're not hopeless. You have a sense of what you should be doing; not a lot of people, for example, know not to throw a punch with their thumb on the outside of their fist. So you've got a good instincts."

I looked at my hands in surprise, "Wait, people do that?"

"The ones with broken thumbs do, anyway." Weld said, and added, "That said, your footwork needs improvement - I can see you're trying to go into a boxer's stance, but you should be doing it like this," he said, which he then proceeded to demonstrate.

And so it went.

Weld obviously wasn't some sort of kung fu master, but he knew his stuff. He was quick to show me proper fighting forms, how to hold myself when preparing for a fight, and where to position my feet. The punches he taught me were simple jabs, close to what I had done at first; in fact, it surprised both of us how easily I took to them. After watching Weld, and then imitating him with a few practice swings, it didn't take long for them to become nearly mirror images of his own.

It wasn't limited to punches either. Kicks also came to me just as easily, along with blocks and soon enough we were moving on to more advanced (but simple) techniques. Most were focused around disarming or disabling my opponent as quickly as possible. By the time I'd run through several grapples, an hour had passed and we'd gathered a bit of an audience. Not just Hunch and the triplets, but a few off duty PRT officers, and Link.

Weld paused after I finished reducing a sandbag to a pulpy mess with a few well placed punches, looking me over with an appraising expression. I stepped away from the sandbag and bit my lip nervously.

"Too much?"

Weld smirked, "Well, yeah. But that's not what has me curious."

He looked over his shoulder, "Hey Hunch? Do we know if Taylor was ever tested for a thinker rating?"

"She was, but that was back in Brockton Bay. You're thinking what I'm thinking, aren't you?"

Weld nodded and looked back at me, "You seem to have hit the metaphorical jackpot, Taylor. A brute and thinker is a rare combo; if I had to guess, you have a weaker version of Uber's imitation ability. Anything you see someone else do, you can imitate and store with perfect precision."

I tried to wrinkle my nose in disgust at the comparison, before remembering that I no longer had one, and settled for folding my arms instead. "Thanks, I… think?"

Uber was part of a villainous duo that posted videos of their antics online. Uber and Leet they called themselves; most of their crimes came off more as mean spirited game show pranks than actual crimes, and most people regarded them as a joke. The last year or two they'd made Brockton Bay their home, but they had a habit of hopping around cities every once in a while; usually after pissing off the local gangs. A comparison to them wasn't exactly what one would call flattering.

"This will make things a lot easier if it's true." Weld explained. "Have your first aid courses been as easy for you as this?"

I rubbed my chin, thinking back to how quickly I grew bored during those lessons. Not because the subject matter was boring, but because of how obvious it had seemed to me and how quickly I picked it up. I had chalked it up to the instructors being very clear in their lessons, but that might just have been optimistic thinking on my part. I didn't like the idea of my mind being affected by my powers. I already had a severe compulsion to eat unlawful amounts of food. Another ability that changed the way I thought and operated made my skin crawl, even if it was to my benefit. How much of me could I really consider me, if my powers were slowly chipping away at my personality?

I shoved _that _line of thought away as quickly as I could. It was way too early in the day for an identity crisis.

"So does that mean I can learn kung fu in a day?" I asked.

Several of the officers laughed, and Weld cracked a smile, "No. There's a lot more to understanding martial arts than knowing techniques. It's… well its complicated; for your sake, all you need to know is these basic moves and you'll already be in the upper percentage of every criminal in this city."

A part of me wilted at that; it was, well, kind of exciting going through this training with him. My entire body felt tense and on edge, eager and ready to move to the next lesson. I was actually surprised by how quickly I took to it, but that _had _to be related to my powers. Of course, that wasn't exactly a bad thing in this case, I hadn't felt excited about much in a long time and it was a nice feeling. So I was understandably disappointed that we were going to keep the lessons simple.

But, Weld was the veteran Ward, he knew what he was doing. It wasn't like asking him to teach me more was appropriate, right?

My train of thought was interrupted by, surprisingly, Hunch. The precog had waddled his way up to both of us, a big grin plastered on his face. "Hey, Weld. I was talking to the triplets, and we struck on a neat idea. How about you and the new girl go one on one? Hm?"

Weld stared at Hunch like he'd grown a second head, "Really? She's been here for all of three days and you're already trying to set up another brawl?"

From the sidelines, one of the officers coughed and handed a twenty to his friend sitting next to him. Hunch continued grinning, "Oh come on dude, just one round. First one to pin the other for five seconds wins. She has super regeneration and you're made of metal. She's the only Ward that could give you a challenge."

Weld shook his head, "Don't be ridiculous. This is about making sure she can handle herself on the street, Hunch, don't-"

"That sounds like fun!" the words were out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying. They were the truth though; a chance to test what I learned sounded great and I was more than ready to jump into the ring, so to speak. It totally wasn't just so I could have an excuse for Weld to grab me with his big strong arms or anything.

The boys paused, and looked at me. Hunch's grin somehow got wider, and Weld looked perplexed, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah; you say there's more to this than just knowing techniques, right? Well practicing on an opponent that can fight back will probably help."

_Plus, it sounds fun_ I thought to myself.

Hunch pointed at me, "See? She's into it! Come on man, just a little fun."

Weld's lips tightened into a line, his eyes flicked from me, to Hunch, the triplets and then back again. He sighed and rolled his eyes, "Alright, alright. One round, first to pin the other for five seconds wins. That's it though, okay?"

"Works for me!" I chirped.

We moved to one of the many training mats, the crowd moving from their seats to stand around us. I had a very brief flashback to the many fights back at Winslow. No one ever intervened in fights, even if they were unprovoked, but they were more than happy to watch. I shuddered and shoved down the memory; this wasn't Winslow, this wasn't a someone beating up someone weaker than them. This was a friendly sparring session between teammates, that's all.

I let my excitement fill me instead, this building tension that filled my body from head to toe. It was hard not to bounce in anticipation; instead, I tried to stay as loose as possible, like Weld had instructed.

The iron lad stood directly across from me, and slid comfortably into a combat stance and I mirrored him. We had to look pretty ridiculous honestly; two giants, one made of metal and the other pink goop, striking kung fu poses. My life really was utterly ridiculous now, and I felt okay with that.

Hunch waddled between us to the edge of the mat and held out his good hand. One of the triplets deposited a flag (where did they get that from!?) in it, and he raised it over head, "Alright, quick rules! No dirty hits; that means no eye gouging, no ear or hair pulling, and no crotch shots. Fight goes until someone pins someone to the floor for five seconds. Are you guys ready?"

"Yup." Weld said.

I grinned; every muscle in my body, if I had any, coiled tight like a spring ready for release, "Ready!"

"Fight!"

He dropped the flag, and I sprung forward. I punched at Weld as quick as I could, my fists a blur of motion. He stepped back and started blocking my blows, eyes widening in surprise at how aggressive I was being; I wanted to win, and I knew he had more experience than I did. The sooner I could catch him off guard, the better.

My blows rebounded off his iron arms with solid slaps of flesh against steel. I didn't want to hurt Weld, even if he was tough enough to handle it, so I was holding back some of my strength. I feinted a jab with my left fist, then swung a kick out to sweep his feet out from under him.

Weld caught my leg with one hand, grunting from the effort, and struck with his free hand. I caught the blow on my arm, and grabbed him by the shirt, heaving as I did. I don't know what that shirt was made of, but it held against his weight even as I pulled him over my head. This wasn't a technique he'd taught me, I just saw an opening and took it.

He hit the ground hard enough to shake it, and I tried to pin him before he could get back up. His reflexes were good, and he rolled aside and to his feet before I could grab him. I shot up like a rocket, smacking into him with my shoulder hard enough to send him stumbling back.

I didn't see his fist lash out, but I sure felt it. My entire world went black, and I staggered away from him while everyone else shouted in surprise.

"I'm okay!" is what I tried to say. It came out as 'Mph mpay!"

I reached up to my face and realized what issue was; Weld had caved it in on itself. That was quick to fix, I put my hands on either side of my head and squeezed until I felt a solid pop, and my vision sprang back into view.

"Okay, that's new." I grasped, rubbing my nonexistent nose.

"Oh god, I'm sorry - " Weld started.

My heart pounded in my ears, I thought I could taste blood in my mouth, and yet despite that, I grinned at him, "Weld, shut up, we're fighting."

"Ooooh!" the triplets crowed, and the crowd snickered.

Weld blinked in surprise, before the message sunk in. He nodded, and we resumed. This time, the aggression wasn't so one sided. Weld gave as good as he got, now that he really understood that an errant punch wouldn't hurt me. The fight very rapidly changed from a 'who can pin who' battle into a 'who breaks first' all out brawl.

Weld hammered his fist into my stomach, I grabbed him by the head and smashed my forehead against his hard enough to send us both reeling backwards. My grin widened, I steadied myself, and delivered a haymaker that sent him spinning across the mat. He barely regained his faculties in time to block another punch from me.

By now I could see that I was much faster than Weld. He could hit like a truck, and so far aside from stunning him I hadn't really hurt him. But he was slow, and had to weather my attacks while I could dance circles around him. Of course, that durability of his was something to worry about. He could tank blows that definitely would've sent a normal person flying, and could counterattack at his leisure.

Even as I hammered him with punches, he made no move to dodge them; he was content to keep his arms raised and to weather the storm. When I tried mixing it up and going for another kick to his side, he absorbed the blow and pinned my leg to his side with one arm, and grabbed my by the throat with the other.

"Sorry Taylor," He apologized as he hoisted me overhead and slammed me into the mat so hard that the entire room shuddered. Officers and the Wards scattered away from the impact zone and stars flashed in my eyes. My ear's rang and the world spun around me, but I definitely wasn't hurt.

Slowly, as the ringing stopped, I could hear Hunch's voice.

"...Two...Three…"

Weld had turned his back on me to check on the officers; big mistake, our little sparring session wasn't over.

I lunged to my feet, a liquid movement that I had no right pulling off as gracefully as I did, and wrapped both my arms around his waist. Weld yelped in surprise, as I heaved again, and suplexed his iron ass. The training mat only barely absorbed the sound of several hundred pounds of metal hitting the ground, and once more the room shook.

And then the entire floor collapsed beneath us and we crashed into the cafeteria below in a shower of concrete dust and plaster. I hit the ground first and was quickly pinned by Weld, who's bulk literally flattened my lower body to the floor while more debris poured on us from above. When the dust finally settled, there was a large hole in the ceiling above, and we were both drenched in dust.

We both started hacking up dust, and overhead I could hear our audience's shocked reactions. I craned my neck up at the hole and saw Hunch looking through it with a wide eyed expression.

"Well shit." he said. "I didn't see that coming."

Despite myself, I started laughing, if only at the ridiculousness of the situation. "Oh my god that was fun. Weld, can I ask you something?"

He groaned and his head lolled loosely to the side, "Yeah?"

"I'd like to meet your teacher, when we can. You said there's more to martial arts than just techniques, right? Well… I think I want to learn more."

Weld looked at me, and a tired smile spread over his face, "I'll look into it. Right now though, we've got more pressing issues to worry about."

Right. We were in so much trouble.

* * *

"Absolutely irresponsible! I would expect this kind of behavior from Hunch or the Triplets, but I expected better of you Weld!" Bastion, the leader of the Protectorate, had been giving Weld and I a very thorough dressing down for the damage we caused. Turns out, for any real power testing, the PRT had its own facilities for that. The gym and the dojo were primarily meant for agents without powers, or capes that didn't have brute ratings like Weld and I.

Whoops.

Agents had quickly arrived to clean up and cordon off our little crash zone, and we'd been corralled off to the side until Bastion and Director Armstrong made their appearances. So far the director hadn't said a word, but he didn't need to; there was a firm look of disapproval on his face even while Bastion verbally eviscerated us.

Speaking of, the leader of the Protectorate had a bit of a temper. He was a decently tall man (nowhere near as tall as Weld and I, but still), and covered head to toe in plated armor. His face was hidden behind a helmet with a single glowing blue visor, and similar glowing bits around his joints. I was reminded of the Ward Gallant in Brockton Bay, only Bastion looked more like a walking fortress and less like a modern knight in shining armor. I idly wondered if he was wearing powered armor, while slowly tuning out his rant.

Honestly, I was very familiar with this. I had been yelled at by the staff at Winslow for daring to speak out against the Trio, and being unfairly accused of being a troublemaker was par for the course. Though it was a little new actually being guilty of what I was being accused of for once, so there was that.

I couldn't help but feel bad for Weld though; he had offered to help prepare me for my hero career, and I had thrown him through the floor and got him in trouble with his superiors. He didn't deserve that; unfortunately, Bastion wasn't leaving us much room to talk.

"-An absolutely inexcusable danger to every member of the PRT in the building! Again, what were you-"

"That's quite enough, Bastion." Armstrong interrupted.

The hero paused and looked back at the director. He took a long, deep breath, let out a sigh, and collected himself. "Yes, of course. I think I've made my point."

"You have indeed." Armstrong agreed and looked at both of us. "These two understand how reckless their actions were. That said, we cannot blame them entirely; after all, we still don't know the full extent of Miss Hebert's abilities, accidents are bound to happen."

He fixed me with a firm look, "With that said, I will ask that you refrain from any more training until we have properly gauged your abilities, if only for the safety of the people in my building."

I bit my lip and ducked my head, "Yessir. Sorry sir."

Armstrong sighed and rubbed his chin, "Of course, this would normally bring up the question of what to do with you two. Accident or no, you did cause considerable damage. I think… a week as Fae's lab assistant's might suffice."

Oh god no!

The grin was palpable in Bastion's voice as he spoke, "I think that's a wonderful idea Director; I'll make sure she's briefed on it."

I flashed back to the endless hours of conversation I'd be subjected to, all the techno babble and tangentially related conversations. I exchanged a look of horror with Weld, who somehow had managed to turn a shade paler.

Armstrong couldn't suppress his smile, "Yes, that and cleaning up the mess you made. I think those are fitting punishments."

We both looked at the large pile of debris sitting in the Weld and Taylor sized crater in the floor, and winced. There was no arguing our way out of that. A pair of agents came up to us with dustpans and brooms, and handed them to us.

"I'd suggest getting to work," Armstrong added, "After all, the lunch rush starts in about two hours, and I'd hate to explain why the cafeteria is closed for the day."

My stomach rumbled and I couldn't help but pout.

You made your bed Taylor, now it was time to lie in it.

I moved to start cleaning, when Armstrong added, "Oh, and Miss Hebert?"

I looked back at him. He wore a kinder expression on his face now, though there was a hint of a grin at the edge of his lips. "I figured you ought to know; Glenn has finished your prototype costume. If you want, I can send it to your room so you can try it on and let him know what you think."

A giddy sense of excitement and dread filled me. On the one hand, it was my costume! My official uniform as a cape! On the other hand, it was my costume designed by _Glenn Chambers_. If it was anything like how he dressed, I shuddered to imagine the monstrosity awaiting me.

I forced a smile, "If it's no trouble, I'd appreciate it, Director."

He nodded, "I'll have it done. Now good luck to you Miss Hebert." we both looked up at the hole, as another piece of debris finally broke free and shattered against the ground.

"You're definitely going to need it.

* * *

I don't want to talk about how long it took to clean up our mess. Lets just say I needed a long shower afterwards and I still wasn't sure I'd gotten all the dust and grime out from under my nails. I had a body that apparently could self clean itself, and I still felt dirty. It sucked, I was grumpy about it, moving on.

As promised, my costume was waiting for me in my room, neatly packed away in a white cardboard box with a note attached to it. I read it first, and it said:

_'Taylor,_

_I've included a rough prototype of your costume. It is, of course, subject to change based on your feedback and the feedback of your team. It will take some time to design another though, so if you don't like it, you'll need to come up with something different for your __official reveal come this Friday. _

_Sincerely,_

_G. Chambers.'_

That didn't fill me with confidence. I looked up from the note at the box, and sighed. No point in putting it off, might as well take a look at it. I opened it up and quickly changed, before stepping in front of the mirror and looking at myself.

It was obvious that Glenn had taken some inspiration from my 'first' costume. I still had those baggy white pants, but the bagginess had been toned down significantly and they fit my body much better now. I wasn't a huge fan of the top, which was mostly just a glorified tank top with some extra padding to give it an armored look. At the very least, it covered my entire torso and only stopped at my shoulders. At the shoulders, I was able to properly attach a purple cape that fell to my knees, instead of just tying it in a knot around my throat and calling it a day. To complete the ensemble, were a pair of golden bands lined with a black edge on either side that clicked onto my wrists and were surprisingly comfortable

I did a few circles, looking at myself from every angle, and the gears clicked.

"Oh goddamn it, he really is making me look like a fucking genie!"

* * *

**A/N: Costume is, of course, subject to change at my whims. Sorry I missed my monday deadline, I have no excused except that I get nervous when writing fight scenes. I hope I did well enough for the fight in this chapter, but please let me know if anything seems off. In fact, feel free to leave any and all comments and criticism below, and I'll see you all next week!  
**


	6. Room and Ward 1-5

**Room and Ward 1.5**

"Hey Weld, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure, go for it." he said while standing on the ceiling. Or was it the floor, since I was technically standing on the ceiling? Fae's gravity room really messed with my sense of perspective; up was down, left was right, red was blue and somewhere a cat and dog were living together. I'll admit, the gravity room _was _very cool, and it was variable. Some sections had reversed gravity, others had lighter gravity and a few had heavier gravity, though those sections only increased gravity by a small percentage. If the gravity was too intense, it would do nasty things to a person's body.

Fae didn't have much use for us, and aside from taking my measurements, had been content to let us explore her our lab, with the condition that we had to ask before we touched anything she was working on. While we did, she was casually spinning in a null gravity zone of the lab, working on some new device that had come to her, muttering excitedly to herself. As far as punishments went, I'd definitely had worse; it was the boredom that was the worst part of it.

My mind had started to wander, and it had wandered into an uncomfortable territory I had been trying to ignore for the past few days. Given that tomorrow I was due for my official public reveal, I felt I couldn't really put it off any longer. It was good luck that Weld was here with me to answer my questions, at the very least.

"Do you… like, going to a public school?" Glenn's words and advice to me had stuck with me, silently gnawing away at the back of my mind even as I had tried to ignore them. The idea of going back to any public school, especially in my current state, twisted me into balls of anxiety so dense, I was pretty sure I was going to create a gravitational anomaly. The fact that hsi logic and reasoning made sense to me, only made it worse, because then I couldn't just dismiss it on the grounds of Glenn being completely nuts (though the jury was still out on that), which would've been so much easier.

Basically, I really needed a second opinion, and Weld was excellent for it. I would have asked Hunch, but I hadn't seen the boy since Weld and I had wrecked the dojo yesterday. He was probably lying low until the whole incident blew over and everyone forgot.

Weld folded his arms and rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "Hmm, well it's definitely different. You get stares for sure, at least on your first week or so; that's the hardest time. But once people get used to you, it's how I imagine school life is supposed to be. You'll get more attention for sure, but it'll mostly be from fans. The downside to being what we are, is that a secret identity is out of the cards, so people will definitely try to talk to you about anything and everything related to the Protectorate."

That was something I had considered and the idea made me nervous. At Winslow, if someone you didn't know approached you, it typically meant you were probably about to get mugged. My instincts probably wouldn't transfer well to a public school that wasn't located in a metaphorical hellhole.

I could see the headline now: _'Local Bubblegum Teenager slams innocent students head through locker! Details at eleven!'_

No thanks.

"Once the shine wears off though," Weld continued, "People just kind of… accept you. Heh, we're all in this suffering together, I guess, and that tends to bring people together."

I squinted an eye at him and said, "You have a very optimistic view of the world, you know that?"

He shrugged and smiled at me. Fae took that moment to interject her two cents. "Personally speaking, I think it would do you good to go to a public school if only so you get used to interacting with people in your new body. I mean, if you're nervous talking to us, how nervous will you be patrolling the streets or talking to civilians when the time comes? Just something to consider."

I looked between them both, and bit my lip, "I'm not… nervous around you guys."

Weld took a sudden interest in a toolbox on the floor, and Fae continued spinning, probably to hide that cheeky grin on her face.

"I'm not!" I protested.

"If you insist." Fae sang.

She stopped herself, and stared at me while floating upside down. "Regardless of your choice, just remember that it _is _your choice, Taylor. You have the final say in this."

Somehow, that didn't fill me with confidence.

_**-M-**_

So technically, since I was still a minor, dad had the final say in whether or not I attended a public school or took private courses. When I called him about that, I was disappointed to find that his decision was, _"Whatever you're comfortable with Taylor, I will support you 100%."_

Great, a supportive and caring father, just what I needed a time like this.

It was hard not to get frustrated. Emotionally, every fiber of my being railed against the idea of putting myself in a public school again. The Trio had turned my experience into hell and it scared me even think about experiencing that again. Rationally, I agreed with what everyone else was saying; for my career as a hero, it could only help. Of course, that side also thought that, if I wound up going and having a repeat of Winslow, that would be just as bad as not going at all.

I wound up wandering the halls after calling dad, trying to clear my mind. It was by pure accident that I found Erica's room. How did I know it was her room? She had painted her name on the door in bright blue letters, and had a miniature mailbox glued to the wall next to it with a note that read 'All complaints and summons here. Knock at your own peril'.

Joke was on her, I could regenerate.

I knocked once and the door immediately slid open and I was buffeted with a blast of frigid air. A colossal figure of ice towered over even me, it's horned head scraping against the threshold. Its body was made entirely out of shards of crystalline ice and steam poured off its body in droves. A pair of glowing blue eyes illuminated its otherwise expressionless face. They narrowed at me before flickering with recognition and then rolled in exasperation.

The ice golem groaned and shifted to the side, revealing Erica standing in her frost covered room wearing a tanktop and shorts. She looked more bemused than annoyed, and completely unaffected by the cold.

"Hey Bubblegum, you can read right?" she said in a chipper tone.

I grinned, "Yeah, but this was… kind of important. Maybe. I need your advice."

A frown spread over her lips, and she stuck her head out into the hall looking both ways. She sighed and pulled it back in, "Is this big long winded advice or short? I'm losing the cold here."

"Short, I think." I said, eyeing her golem nervously. It's crystal clear body was slowly fogging over and it's glowing eyes had vanished, leaving it as still as a statue, which somehow made it more unnerving.

"Fine, shoot." she sighed.

"Do you think I should go to public school with Weld and Hunch?"

Erica groaned and covered her face, "Oh christ, Glenn talked to you about that didn't he? Fucking PR Toadie…"

I blinked, "So you know him?"

"Everyone knows him." she hissed with surprising venom. I think my stunned expression got to her, her tone softened. "Look, whatever Glenn says, even if it makes sense, he can't actually do shit. He's just a PR advisor. Yeah, he's the top dog, but there is literally nothing he can do except pull funding for your costumes and public appearances. And even that can get overruled if Armstrong says so. So if you're worried about the whole school thing, tell him to take his idea and shove it up his ass."

I blinked again and made no attempt to hide my surprise, "Um, okay… I'm sensing a history here."

Erica glared at me, "If you saw the outfits he tried to get me to wear once I started to 'develop' you'd understand. He also tried manipulating Kelvin and I into a relationship because 'fire and ice make a nice thematic pair'. He's a manipulative little toad that sees us as merchandise to be marketed, _that's it_."

My opinion of Glenn dropped at that. "I see… That's… enlightening. But I talked with Weld and Fae about it. She agrees with it, and Weld is…"

"Terrifyingly optimistic in the face of the grim reality that is this joke of a planet?" Erica finished.

"I was going to say supportive."

"Same difference."

I frowned and put my hands on my hips, "Okay, so your hate for Glenn aside, what do you think?"

Erica rubbed her temples and grumbled to herself.

"If you want my honest opinion, you do you. But if you're going to do the public school thing, lay down your ground rules."

I cocked my head to the side and she sighed again. "The PRT and Protectorate are legally responsible for you now. You live on site, so education, shelter, food, they're responsible for all of it. You have sway over them; if there's something you're worried about, and I'm guessing there is, then make it clear that you want certain conditions met before you jump in. If they're not willing to jump through your hoops, then just take up private tutoring like I did. Just be hard about it; if you give them an inch, they'll take a mile."

I had to admit, I liked her way of phrasing it. It felt a lot more grounded than Weld's view of things, and I hadn't considered what kind of control I might have over the PRT and Protectorate. It made sense in hindsight, given that they were willing to buy our home off our hands for its original market value and to provide a new one in Boston for dad. They were obviously willing to move a lot around just to add me to the roster.

A grin spread over my face, and I felt that familiar mischievous feeling again. "Thank you Erica, I think I'll put your advice to good use."

_**-M-**_

"Miss Hebert, Director Armstrong will see you now." the secretary said.

I had decided to go straight to the top about my little issue. My plan was simple, I would lay out the issues I had with going to a public school, and list the concessions I needed before I'd even consider it. If they couldn't meet them, I would take private tutoring instead. I would be as civil as I could, Director Armstrong had been nothing but patient and kind since my arrival, but I also wasn't going to budge either.

Steeling myself, I nodded to the secretary, stood up, and pushed open his office door and stepped inside. Armstrong didn't have a window office, but his office felt surprisingly open despite that. A large oak desk dominated the room, the PC set to one side and a stack of neatly organized papers occupied the other. The light was soft, and to my surprise there was an aquarium on the left side of the room that was filled with colorful fish and bubbled softly. On the right side of the room, a bookcase dominated the wall and a set of comfortable lounge chairs were set before it and around a coffee table.

Armstrong was seated in one of those chairs, pouring boiling water from a kettle into a mug. I recognized the smell, earl grey with a hint of honey; my greatest weakness.

The director smiled at me as I walked in, "Miss Hebert, it's wonderful to see you again. Please, sit."

I walked over and did so; the chair was comfortable, but not too comfortable. Was that intentional? I decided I was probably overthinking it and focused on the man in front of me, relaxed and confident as he always seemed to be.

He gestured at the kettle, "Tea?"

"Yes please." I said.

His movements were calm and deliberate and once my cup was filled, he added a touch of honey. Okay, this was _definitely _intentional. And it was working, damn it. I took a sip and savored the taste. It was an effort to drag my mind back to the matter at hand.

"Director, I'm here to talk to you about my education."

Armstrong nodded, "I thought so. Glenn told me he had talked to you about that, I hope he didn't pressure you too severely. I would hate for you to think you're obligated to appease him."

I carefully selected my words and tried to speak with the same calm he had. I think I managed it, "I'm willing to attend class with Weld and Hunch, but I have a few conditions."

"Name them," Armstrong said, spreading his hands, "If there's anything we can do to make this easier for you, I promise I will try to make it a possibility to the best of my abilities."

He was being way too calm about this. I shook off that thought and started listing off my conditions, counting off my fingers as I did. "Okay, then: First, I want a direct line to PRT support, second, I want full control over which classes I take and I want to go to a _respectable _school, third, I want an agent assigned to the school to act as a liaison with the staff if anything comes up, and fourth, I want Glenn to keep his nose out of my social life there. If you can do these things, I'll happily go to whatever school you send me to."

Armstrong raised a brow, but said nothing. He clearly and calmly reached for his tea and took a long draw. He finished with a satisfied sigh and set it on the plate with a soft clink of ceramic.

"Well, I see you have your priorities in order, Miss Hebert, that's good. As for your conditions, well… The first three of those are standard operating procedures for the Wards."

I opened my mouth and froze, "I… what?"

The man hid his smile well, but the corner of his lips twitched upwards, "We issue standard cellphone equipment with direct lines to our support staff. If something happens, we're a phone call away from providing support. When a Ward moves schools for whatever reason, we streamline the process and give them as much freedom as possible; your academic career is important to us. We always have a liaison on site, both to ensure the staff avoid preferential treatment and to report if Ward's are abusing their powers on the students. As for Glenn, I can only promise to try; that man technically operates independently of any one branch of the Protectorate, and he can be persistent. But if you think he's crossed a line, don't hesitate to tell me."

I stared at Armstrong, not entirely sure if I was processing what he said properly. He looked amused, but in a doting grandfatherly way.

"I... I see." my voice came out in a strained squeak.

Armstrong's amusement faded and he sighed. "Miss Hebert, we are not your enemy. My job, my _duty _as the director of the PRT and partner to the Protectorate, is to ensure that the Wards are taken care of. To make sure that each and every one of you is given every possible resource available to us so that you can not only survive but thrive. I want you to be comfortable, to be happy, and I want to see you to become heroes worthy of the title."

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "I know about Winslow, from what you've told us. I've researched what I can about the school. Your treatment there was terrible; most Parahumans in some way suffer like you suffer in some way shape or form. That's why it's so important we work together. I can only help you to be a hero if you let me, understand? So whatever you need, don't hesitate to tell me. I'll do what I can to provide it."

The smile returned, "Within reason of course."

Without a word, he grabbed a napkin off the table and offered it to me. I took it and wiped the tears from my eyes. My chest swirled with emotions, far too many; I didn't like it, I felt like I was about to burst into sobbing fits. I swear, I wasn't this emotional before my trigger event.

Then again, I hadn't been given a genuine offer of help in a very long time.

I dried my tears and took a calm steadying breath, "Okay, I understand Director."

"Good." he patted his knees and pulled a pad and pen out from a drawer in the desk and clicked it open. "So, lets go over it then. What exactly can I do for you, Miss Hebert?"

I recognized one of those emotions swirling around inside me. As cheesy as it sounds, for the first time in a long time, I felt genuine hope at the day's to come. Oh sure, I was nervous as hell, but for once, I didn't feel alone. Someone outside my family actually gave a damn about me, and it felt good.

**A/N: I hope that ending wasn't too corny, I have trouble with fluff/feels. Editor will be looking over this and the edited copy should go up tomorrow ish. **

**Anyway, with that out of the way, this brings us to the end of the first Arc. We've got a general establishment of characters that are important, got to see some of Taylor's powers in action and had her come to a decision on her schooling. Now, I need to ask something of y'all. Next chapter is going to include a PHO interlude that goes over Taylor's public reveal and I am garbage at writing internet comments. So if you're interested, feel free to leave comments or DM me ideas for them. Next arc we should start seeing the plot moving with a little less character stuff. This story has surprisingly caught my attention so I hope to be posting more consistently, but we'll see!**

**Hope y'all enjoyed it, feel free to leave comments and criticism below and (God willing) I'll see you all on Friday!**


	7. Interlude 1-1

**Interlude 1.1**

[B]Welcome to the Parahumans Online Message Boards[/B]

You are currently logged in, [U]Armstrong[/U] (Director)

You are viewing:

• Threads you have replied to

• AND Threads that have new replies

• OR private message conversations with new replies

• Thread OP is displayed

• Ten posts per page

• Last ten messages in private message history

• Threads and private messages are ordered by user custom preference.

[Center]■[/Center]

[B] Topic: New Boston Ward[/B]

[B]In: Boards ► News ► America ► Boston[/B]

[B]Watchm n[/B] (Original Poster) (The Guy In The Know) (Cape Groupie) (Power Guru)

Posted on December 3, 2010:

So I'm sure just about everyone paying attention to Boston is aware by now, but for those not in the know, let me give you a brief summary:

About a week ago, local collateral damage epicenter Bulldozer was transferred to the Brockton Bay division of the Protectorate. At the time, myself and many others thought that the Boston Protectorate didn't have a need for a guy who's entire purpose was built around hitting as hard as possible as fast as possible. Fair enough, someone like Bulldozer would be more useful in a festering hole like Brockton Bay.

But here's the twist; turns out, it wasn't a transfer, it was a trade! Everyone, say hello to the newest Boston Ward, Djinn!

There was a big public event, can't remember all the details, but short of it is that the local Protectorate team showed up and unveiled their newest member in the Wards, pictures and video are at the bottom.

Official story, she's a Case 53 that they found wandering the woods between Boston and Brockton Bay, which might explain the trade. The Protectorate here really likes taking monstrous capes in under their wing. It looks like power wise, there's not too much of a difference; Djinn is a brute rating at the very least, though they're pretty vague on it. They had her lifting some weights to show off, but they're (understandably) keeping a lid on everything she can do.

So, what're your thoughts guys? Are we looking at another Bulldozer, or another Weld?

Pics and video

[B](Showing Page 1 of 8)[/B]

[INDENT]

[B]► Fawn_oNe[/B] (Cape Groupie)

Replied on December 3, 2010:

Oh my god she's adorable! Boston already had its share of monsters, but I always knew they needed a monster girl!

[B]► Spok-Brow[/B]

Replied on December 3, 2010:

Fawn_oNe

Remember dude, she's underage. Don't grab the Mod's attention.

Personally speaking, she kinda freaks me out. Peak uncanny valley given form. She also seems a bit nervous in her interview; we sure she's cut out for the cape scene?

[B]► 3t3rnal_Optimist[/B] (Cape Groupie)

Replied on December 3, 2010:

Eh, I can't say much at this point. She seems nice, but nervous. At the very least, starting in Boston will be good for her. It's not the safest city out there, but it's a hell of a lot better than Brockton Bay. I wish her the best of luck!

[B]► ln_Awe[/B]

Replied on December 3, 2010:

Anyone else see this video yet?

Girl has an appetite that would put locust to shame. I feel bad for the Protectorates food budget.

[B]► R3ch3r[/B]

Replied on December 3, 2010:

ln_Awe

Holy shit, that has to be at least forty empty dishes! Where does it all go!?

[B]► Jok3r_Man[/B] (Power Guru)

Replied on December 3, 2010:

Well, now we know her real power. Never thought I'd see a cape with 'super appetite' though.

Anyone else wonder if that's in Eidolon's list of powers?

[B]► 0fended[/B]

Replied on December 3, 2010:

Wow really dude? 'Monstrous Cape'? Just because she doesn't look like a normal human doesn't make her a monster. Some fucking people, smh.

[B]► Watchm n[/B] (The Guy In The Know) (Cape Groupie) (Power Guru)

Replied on December 3, 2010:

0fended

Sorry, poor choice of words. I of course don't think Djinn or any of the other Case 53's are monsters; the term is thrown around here so often that it just sticks with you after a a while. Sorry if I offended you.

[B]► Contra-Rian[/B] (Temp-banned)

Replied on December 3, 2010:

Watchm n

Sure, easy to say that when someone calls you out on it. Your post history says otherwise you racist twat.

[Mod Warning: He apologized for it, no need to to start flinging insults]

[/INDENT]

[B]End of Page. 1, [U]2[/U], [U]3[/U] ... [U]6 [/U], [U]7[/U], [U]8[/U][/B]

[B](Showing Page 3 of 8)[/B]

[INDENT]

[B]► GentlemanRogue[/B]

Replied on December 3, 2010:

Calling it now, pink is the new color of terror.

Seriously, think about it! We know she's a Brute and thanks to that vid, we know that she's super stretchy. I'm just imagining a Weld-strength punch assisted by physics and am getting chills. Not the good kind either, the kind that comes with mass destruction of public property! :sob::sob::sob:

[B]► Theo-Ret[/B] (Cape Groupie)

Replied on December 3, 2010:

Actually, that's a good point. The girl has some sort of super stretch power at work here. Anyone else ever seen a cape like that before?

[B]► Archlv3[/B] (Power Guru)

Replied on December 3, 2010:

TheoR-et

the few I can list off the top of my head:

Weld has a pretty moldable body

Dredlok can do that weird thing with his hair

Glacia can add more ice to her constructs to make them 'stretchy'.

Name half the things Blasto churns out ofhis lab

That's in Boston anyway, and nowhere near as stretchy as Djinn seems to be.

[/INDENT]

[B]End of Page. [U]1[/U], [U]2[/U], [U]3[/U] ... [U]6[/U], [U]7[/U], 8[/B]

[B](Showing Page 8 of 8)[/B]

[INDENT]

[B]► Four_Sh dow[/B] (Cape Groupie) (Power Guru)

Replied on December 3, 2010:

I think we're all missing the most important question here though. New Ward, new cape, and it's in Boston. Calling it now, but we're going to see Accord and his Ambassadors on the move again to capitalize on it. Everyone there, stay safe, the next few weeks could get messy.

[/INDENT]

[B]End of Page. [U]1[/U], [U]2[/U], [U]3[/U] ... [U]6[/U], [U]7[/U], 8[/B]

_**-M-**_

"Well, as far as first public events go, that was… adequate" said Glenn Chambers.

Armstrong closed the tab and looked over at Glenn's face on the screen, making no effort to hide his annoyance at the man's statement. "Given her history, I think she performed above and beyond what was expected of her."

"Sure, sure." Glen admitted; Armstrong could hear the shuffling of papers off screen. Rare was the occasion when Glenn wasn't busy, and on that level, he and the man found their common ground.

Glenn returned his attention to Armstrong. "At her age, and with her history, she did fine. Better than I expected if I'm completely honest. Unfortunately her appearance is more of a hindrance than a help, and there's very little I can do to help her with that."

Personally, Armstrong still wasn't sure why Glenn had gone with a genie theme of all things, but he lacked the creative vision that Glenn possessed for better or worse. He would not try to interject his opinion, when it came to costume design. His level of expertise was concerned with the capes under his jurisdiction and their powers, and what he read from the PHO and had heard from his subordinates, supported a theory that he had been developing since meeting Miss Hebert.

"You've done what you can, Glenn." Armstrong said. "But you came in at the bottom of the ninth, there's only so much you can do at that point."

Glenn raised a brow, and Armstrong ignored it; it wasn't his fault that he couldn't appreciate a good baseball analogy. Armstrong continued, "I've discussed this with the capes and the PRT agents. My current theory is that the aversion everyone has to Miss Hebert on first meeting isn't related to her appearance, but to a low level shaker/trump ability. Capes in particular have said that she unsettles them in an instinctual manner when they first meet her. Non-powered individuals find her off putting but nowhere near the level that the Ward's have described."

He didn't mention that Weld and Hunch didn't fall into this category. It was an interesting correlation, but until he had more data to confirm it, he wasn't going to say anymore. Case 53's interacted oddly with other powers on occasion, and it could simply be coincidence that Miss Hebert didn't unsettle them like she did the other local capes.

"Hmm," Glenn steepled his fingers and furrowed his brow, "That could be troublesome in the future. If it's possible Armstrong, try to keep Taylor away from interviews for the moment. We may be looking at an Armsmaster situation where we have to let her actions speak for her instead of her words."

Oh, Armstrong certainly hoped not. Few remembered it now, but Armsmaster's early days had been a string of PR disasters that had very quickly forced the (at the time) young hero to hang up his old identity and adopt his current one, with a standing order that he wasn't allowed to talk to the press without prepared speeches on hand. His actions since graduating from the Wards to the Protectorate had been what earned his reputation; his personality, had not.

"I doubt it will come to that, but I do agree that keeping Miss Hebert away from the press would be in everyone's interest. I assume this means a cessation of public events like today's?"

Glenn nodded, "Yeah. If you ever think she could add to an event, call me first."

"Noted," Armstrong said, and turned his attention to several new emails that appeared on his screen. He sighed and rubbed his temples, feeling the length of the day finally taking its toll on him.

"Can I confide something in you, Glenn?"

The man smiled, "Of course."

Armstrong gestured at the screen with his palm up, "PR is the least of my worries. What has me concerned, is how Accord and his Ambassador's will react to this."

Glenn arched a brow, "Really? I would have assumed the Teeth would be on your mind; aren't they making a move back to Boston again?"

That made Armstrong snort, "The Teeth are an issue like a storm is an issue. As long as you can prepare for them, the most you'll have to deal with is a few lightning bolts and some rain. No, Accord is the one I'm worried about. The man has a mind like a maze and the resources of a small country at his beck and call. Every change or tactic we adopt, he adapts and plans around. If Bulldozer hadn't volunteered to trade for Miss Hebert, I wouldn't have taken it; we were finally starting to figure out what Accord was planning and now everything is going to shift again."

"Oh trust me, Armstrong, you should be thankful that Bulldozer is gone," Glenn snickered. "Or do you want me to read up the list of damages he's already accumulated in Brockton Bay?"

Armstrong covered his face, "God no, please. The next Director's meeting is tomorrow, I'm sure Piggot will have plenty to bitch about then, I don't need to know what it's about ahead of time."

Glenn let out a bark of laughter, "Okay then, your call."

A voice off screen caught the PR Director's attention, taking him off screen for a moment. When he returned, his face was a bit more solemn, "Sorry Armstrong, I'll have to cut our conversation short. You know how to contact me if you need me, and I wish you the best of luck."

Armstrong saluted with his index and middle finger, "You as well, Glenn. As always, your services are greatly appreciated."

Glenn grinned, "Now you're lying to my face, for shame."

The session ended with a soft beep, and Armstrong felt some of the humor leave his body. His concerns were real, and those who had been in Boston the longest would share them. There was a new hero in the Wards for certain, which meant that the entire cape dynamic was about to shift, and shift hard. Accord was going to be on the march, and the only question was what his first move would be.

_**-M-**_

Jean Brown was very concerned for her employer. It was the nature of things, the nature of his abilities. Accord was a man of immense talent, power, and flaws. His reach was as wide as his ambitions were lofty, and his limitations as grand as his designs. Jean, known to the public as Citrine, prided herself in how she managed to compensate for his limitations. He could provide the brilliance and the resources to accomplish whatever he deigned possible, and she provided the human stability to ensure that they weren't bankrupted in the process.

It was a balancing act, one that she walked carefully every day. Which was why she was very concerned when Accord began to miss his scheduled appointments. A scheduled break, a daily review of events in the city, etc. Accord did not interrupt his schedules, not lightly. If he did, something was very, _very _wrong.

Citrine stormed up to his office, the guards at his door seamlessly stepping aside. The doors opened silently of their own will, exposing his office. Neat, meticulous, clean. There was not a chair out of place, a smudge uncleaned. The large expansive office struck a chord between lavish and spartan that only a man like Accord could succeed in pulling off.

That was of no concern to Citrine though, as she nearly stopped dead in her tracks. Papers had been scattered across his desk, some even having fallen to the floor. Accord sat at it, his mask off and his hands grasping at his head with frustration.

He was a short man, barely reaching over five feet tall. His face was plain, clean shaven, and he was dressed in a well pressed suit. Normally he wore an expressive mask of silver and wood even in private, but it lay on its side now, haphazardly discarded amongst the rabble.

Citrine wasted no time gathering the paper even as she never took her eyes off her employer. She spoke carefully, cautiously, as if speaking to an animal lost to its rage.

"Sir, what happened?"

"The girl." Accord said, barely paying her any mind. "The girl. She doesn't fit. She has no shape, she has no form. She brings it all down, the structure cannot survive. I cannot account for her, she cannot be accounted for."

Citrine glanced at the papers in her hands, and understanding blossomed. The new Ward, Djinn. She had known Acord was going to take time to review what was known of her, from both public information and the information their infiltrators had taken from the PRT's records. This though, was hardly a reaction she expected from him.

Accord looked up suddenly, his eyes wide with fear. "We _can't account for her_. She is chaos, entropy. Every plan turns to dust before my eyes. Every contingency planned, every idea formed, it all fails to coalesce."

Citrine's lips tightened into a line and she spoke slowly, confidently. It could be said that Accord did not take it well when his power failed him. One of his many… quirks.

"Sir, if I may be so bold," she said, "perhaps you lack enough context. After all, your power can only work so well with the information available to it."

A spark, a return of brilliance to his eyes, and Citrine felt at ease once more. Accord nodded slowly, and reached for his mask, "Yes. Yes of course. Thank you Citrine. I was… startled; My apologies."

"You owe me no such thing sir," she handed him the papers that had fallen, neatly organized by page number and expertly stacked; he expected nothing less.

Accord took them with the caution and care of a technician handling a bomb, and set them to the side. "You may return to your duties. If I do not leave within the hour, please return for me; I have a call to make."

Citrine bowed her head, "Of course, sir."

She turned on her heel and left, hearing only the beginning of her employer's call. It was enough though, to know that their minds were once more operating on the same wavelength.

"Coil, my old friend. I'm in need of your tattletale for my services…"

**A/N: I hope I got Accord down right, he's an odd one that's difficult to not flanderize. Sorry the interlude is so later, I wound up rewriting the PHO bit two times and the Armstrong bit three times. The initial ones were, well... awful, so I had to fix them. I hope the final product was worth the wait. **

**Next chapter we see the Arc starting up and Djinn/Taylor takes the City of Boston by storm! Gamikai have mercy on their souls.**

**Please let me know what you thought with comments or criticism below and I'll see you guys next time!**


	8. Old Masters 2-1

**Old Master 2.1**

"Is it okay for me to admit that I'm a little nervous?"

"Honestly, I'd be more worried if you weren't. It is your first time."

"It's just… it's so _big_. I've seen big ones before but this is the biggest one I've ever seen! I'm not sure I'm ready for this."

"You can handle it. We'll take it slow; no need to rush."

"Can I at least change into something more comfortable?"

"You'll have to take it up with Glenn."

Behind us, a pair of PRT agents broke down into snickering laughter, much to mine and Weld's confusion. I tried my best to ignore them and fidgeted nervously. Yesterday, I had finally been unveiled to the public, which should've made this easier than it was. The truth was, even though Boston knew about me, I barely knew Boston.

Brockton Bay had been my home for my entire life; I knew the city inside and out, the general attitude, the territories, the districts. It was a lifeline so familiar that it wasn't until now, as I was preparing to leave the safety of the PRT building behind and go on patrol, that I realized how much of a gaping hole its absence left in me. Outside was unknown waters, and who knew what lurked there?

Yes I knew the gangs and I knew some of the landmarks, but that was the extent of my knowledge. Also, I hadn't actually been out in public since I had first woken up with my new body, which didn't help with the nervousness; and as helpful as Armstrong had been, I personally didn't want to put off my patrol.

If I waited any longer to join my teammates in the field, it was only going to make my anxiety worse. Better I rip the band-aid off now instead of waiting and letting my feelings fester. Of course, that didn't make it any easier.

Weld put a hand on my shoulder and gave me that reassuring smile he loved to throw around, "Taylor, Djinn. You can do this. One patrol around the block, if you're feeling into it, we keep going. If it's too much, we come back and give you more time to settle. Just tell me if you're feeling overwhelmed, got it?"

I looked down at him in wonder. Not at the gesture of kindness, because Weld gave those out like candy. No, I was in wonder at the turn in my life. Having people actually interested in what I wanted, what I felt I needed was… well, outside of my dad, it had been two years since anyone had taken what I wanted seriously.

"Okay." I shook my head and sucked in a breath, "Okay, yeah, let's do this."

He released my shoulder and nodded, then opened the door for us. There were multiple exits built into the PRT building, both as safety measures and as multiple entrances and exits for capes wishing to avoid being immediately swarmed by civilians. Since we were Wards, and I an untested one at that, we were never given 'dangerous' routes if the Protectorate could help it. In our case, it meant Weld and I would only patrol up and down a few city blocks, say hi to civilians and maybe get involved if there were any crimes in progress: Flying the flag, as Director Armstrong put it.

I adjusted my costume as I stepped out into the city for the first time, more than a bit self-conscious. Obviously no one knew who I was or had been, but it still felt wrong going out as a hero without a mask. Because obviously my face was my most recognizable feature now.

Weld put a hand to his ear and said, "Testing, Console, do you read?"

Hunch's voice sounded over the communicator, _"Roger, Roger. What's your vector Victor?"_

"Ugh," Weld rolled his eyes, "Let's keep the pop culture references to a minimum today, Console."

_"Fiiine, if you want to be boring like that." _Hunch huffed, _"You're coming in loud and clear. What about the new girl, how's her setup?"_

My 'setup' was a custom made headset that had been disguised as a circlet that wrapped around my forehead. Fun detail about my biology change had completely removed my ears as they had been, and replaced them with these odd 'sound holes' which meant I needed special equipment since a normal earbud wouldn't exactly fit. Hence the circlet/tiara thing that had, surprise surprise, been Glenn's idea.

I reached up and tapped the circlet. As long as I touched its outer edge anywhere, I could activate it., "Testing, Console, do you read?"

_"Roger that, the genie is out of her bottle."_

Before I could tell Hunch exactly where he could shove his hypothetical bottle, Weld interrupted me, "What's the status in our neck of the woods, Console?"

Hunch paused for a moment, and I heard the sound of keyboard clicking, _"Well, Back Bay is looking pretty clear at the moment. Minor fender bender on Beacon street, emergency services are already on that, and a reported mugging on Massachusetts Avenue, second verse same as the first. Sounds like it's a pretty slow day, but expect that forecast to change at any moment.". _

"Right, keep us posted then. Otherwise, we're going to head up Huntington to Copley Square then we'll circle back around through Commonwealth, give the folks at home a chance to get used to their newest defender."

_"Roger that, I'll inform the boys upstairs." _Hunch said, _"Have fun out there you crazy kids, don't do anything I wouldn't!"_

Weld smirked, "That's the idea, Console. Over and out."

The channel closed with a burst of static and Weld smiled at me, "You get used to it."

Huntington Avenue was a great example of how different Boston was from Brockton Bay. The buildings running along the street ran the gamut from brutalist concrete towers to older victorian style brick street houses with everything in between. It was a city with a very long and rich history, emphasis on the rich. Outside of the downtown area and boardwalk, Brockton Bay was a very poor city standing on its last legs. Boston meanwhile was a shining beacon of relative prosperity and hardiness in the face of an unchanging future.

As we stepped onto the sidewalks and started our patrol, this difference struck me like a bolt of thunder. The people that passed by us looked at Weld with familiar cheer and at me with genuine curiosity. There was no fear, no caution and no looks of general apathy or worse, outright hostility. In fact, most people actually smiled or even waved at us as we passed by them. They gave us a wide berth as we walked, but it was… ugh, putting it into words is difficult, but the closest I could think of was respect. There was a respect for us as we went about our business.

It didn't take long before I felt the nervous knot in my stomach begin to unwind and I stopped slouching, something I hadn't even realized I'd started doing. It was a survival instinct from my days at Winslow, a way to avoid drawing attention to myself. But, I realized after a few minutes that those days were behind me.

This was a new home, a new opportunity. Literally no one knew who I really was, or where I had come from. They all assumed I was like Weld, a Case 53 that had decided to sign on with the Protectorate for one reason or another. To the people of Boston, I was an untested hero, _and that was it_.

With this realization came a lightness in my shoulders, like a weight had finally been removed. To the people of Boston, I wasn't Taylor Hebert, the awkward weirdo from Winslow High. I was Djinn, the newest addition to the Boston Wards; I could be whatever the hell I wanted to be.

The feeling of freedom quickly ground to a halt as I realized that I had no idea what to _do _with this realization. Years and years ago, my former best friend and I would spend entire nights going over the kind of hero we'd be if we got powers. All that talk hadn't prepared me for the powers I'd gotten, and it was significantly easier to _say _what I wanted to do. Actually doing it proved harder than I expected.

I settled for just trying not to come off as a creepy monster in human clothes. I straightened my shoulders, swept my cape back and tried walking beside Weld instead of trailing behind him like a lost puppy. He glanced at me and the edge of his mouth twitched up in a smile.

"Now you're getting the hang of things."

"If you keep talking about it, I'm going to have a panic attack." I whispered to him under my breath.

He got the message and changed the subject, "So, this is your first time actually seeing the city, right?"

I nodded, thankful for the change in subject, "Apart from the drive in, yeah. I've never seen a city quite like it, but…"

I stopped short and mentally slapped myself. There was only so much I could talk with Weld about in public. After all, I _did _have a cover story, as basic as it was. If I started reminiscing about my home life back in Brockton Bay, someone would inevitably put two and two together, and that would be the end of Djinn the Case 53 Ward.

"But it can be a bit overwhelming?" Weld supplied.

I smiled, "Yeah, that."

Our conversation came to an abrupt end when the communicator crackled to life. _"Console to Wards, we have an ongoing robbery at the intersection of Boylston and Clarendon; police are calling for an Ancile Protocol, I repeat, an Ancile Protocol."_

Weld's face went serious and he tapped his comm. "Roger that Console, Djinn and I are on our way. Any details on backup?"

_"Full time Protectorate members are otherwise engaged with the Teeth in Dorchester. Police have currently besieged the robbers, but they have tinkertech and… no cape. Definitely no capes. SWAT is dispatching, but the current roster is going to be overwhelmed soon, they need the extra support."_

"Understood, we'll be there in two minutes; if you know anything about the Tinkertech, you can tell us on the way."

He looked at me, his face grim, "Well, looks like it's our lucky day. Come on, I'll explain on the way."

Weld broke into a sprint and the crowd of civilians parted like an ocean before him. I took off after him, easily keeping pace.

"What's an Ancile protocol?" I asked.

"Short term for 'we need a big tough guy to soak up some weapons fire'. I can't speak for the other branches, but in Boston we develop 'Protocols' for heroes in the roster. Ancile Protocol is what they use when they need my help, the Helios Protocol is for Kelvin, etc. If it's the entire Ward team, it's the Scouts Honor Protocol, and for all hands on deck it's an Apollyon Protocol. You're new so you don't have a protocol yet."

I nodded my understanding, and thought about what he said; several questions occurred to me and I didn't hesitate to ask them. Anything to keep my mind off of what was to come, I suppose.

"So what should I do then?"

"Stay back, assist anyone you see injured, and keep civilians away and calm. I have no idea what idiot thought it was a good idea to rob a bank within spitting distance of the PRT building, but you can bet that if they're packing Tinkertech, they aren't messing around."

He fixed me with a very serious expression, "I mean it when I say stay back, Djinn. We still have no idea how good your regeneration is. If there's anything that could counter it, it's tinkertech."

The tone of his voice sent chills down my nonexistent spine. Gone was the relaxed and good natured Weld I'd gotten to know over the past week. A serious and no-nonsense cape had taken his place, and I had no desire to test him. Nor was I in a hurry to test the exact limits of my regeneration. I could handle civilian duty though, that would be easy; people already naturally tried to avoid me, so keeping people out of a certain area should be a cinch. I nodded my assent and we rushed forward

We were about a block away when we started hearing the gunshots. Civilians were already fleeing in the opposite direction, in a surprisingly calm and orderly manner, some stopping to take video with their phones but most content to keep moving away from the chaos. I recognized the sound of police pistols, whatever kind they used, barking. I didn't recognize the roar of gunfire that answered it, but it didn't sound good at all.

That was an accurate prediction. The bank was built into the corner of the intersection, and the cops had quickly cordoned the area off. Several cruisers were parked in a ring around the bank itself, which was a tall multi-story glass monstrosity with a plain entryway and big open doors and windows and directly connected to older structures with stone and brick edifices. Unless the police had those areas locked down, how did they hope to keep the robbers from getting away?

The armored car crashed into the front of the bank was probably the answer; it didn't have any BPD markings on it, so it probably belonged to the crooks. Right okay, so the police were banking on the idea that if the robbers wanted to escape with their ill-gotten gains, they would have to use that armored truck. A nice idea, but it seemed that whoever had equipped these thieves had gone all out.

I counted four in total, moving slowly from deeper inside the bank back to their van. Three of them fired on the police with normal looking rifles, and had large duffel bags slung over their backs. The fourth was a veritable giant by comparison, and was casually reloading what looked like a single shot grenade launcher. All of them were covered in chitinous mottled green armor, giving them the appearance of bipedal beetles. The largest even had glowing red eyes and a small horn jutting from his forehead. Hunch had said there were no capes on the scene, so this was probably some sort of power armor.

Weld must've thought the same thing, because he cursed under his breath and said, "Great, Blastgerm. What is Blasto thinking?"

There were three main gangs in Boston: Accord and his Ambassadors, who occupied Charleston and were considered the most 'civilized' of the three, the Teeth who used to occupy Brockton Bay before the Slaughterhouse Nine nearly obliterated them, and Blastgerm the bio-tinker. Now that Weld said it, I had to agree with him.

Blastgerm, lead by the aforementioned Blasto, normally dabbled in narcotics. He made and sold bioengineered drugs for cash and mostly kept to himself, outside of occasionally unleashing the odd genetic monstrosity. This though, didn't fit what I had read about them; at best, bank robberies fell under the Ambassadors modus operandi, and that was rare.

Weld and I took cover in the outer ring of cruisers, the robbers hadn't noticed us yet. The cops were doing a good job forcing them to cautiously move forward towards their armored vehicle, but that wasn't going to last long.

The cop sharing cover with us looked at Weld with relief, "Oh thank god, it's you. We could really use some iron right now, Weld."

He struck up that smile again, "That's what we're here for, officer. What's the situation, any hostages?"

"No, they chased everyone out after crashing through the front door. They've been throwing explosives at us and firing back, but no one's hurt yet, I think."

We all looked down the line of cars, towards a cruiser that was burning with emerald fire. It was slowly melting into the ground, sending rivulets of molten steel running over thorns embedded into the asphalt.

"Not from a lack of trying." Weld noted.

He spared a glance over the hood of the cruiser and then ducked back under. "Okay, here's the plan officer. I'm going to cut them off before they get to their van, and I need your people to keep up the covering fire. Bullets won't hurt me, so feel free to fire away. While I'm doing that, Djinn here is going to look for injured while you all start pulling back. You think you can relay that to everyone else?"

The officer nodded and grabbed at his radio, "Works for me; I can handle two bit crooks, but I'm not paid enough to get in a gunfight with the beetleborgs."

Weld smirked and looked at me; I made no effort to hide my stunned expression. Obviously Weld had been in this situation before and the police trusted him a lot if they were willing to defer to his judgement. It would probably be a smart idea if I did the same.

I nodded my understanding, and moved to the rear of the cruiser. I heard Weld speak up behind me, "Once I engage them, you can move Djinn. Got it?"

"Got it." I confirmed.

As the officer conveyed Weld's plan to the rest of the assembled cops, the gunfire started to lull. It was at this point, I heard Weld take off, his heavy feed slamming hard against the pavement. There were startled yells, and the sound of glass shattering, immediately followed by gunfire.

That was my cue, and I started by rushing from one cruiser to the next, looking for any injured cops. To my relief, it seemed the cop was right when he said no one was seriously injured. Most of the officers were already falling back, while taking the occasional potshot towards Weld's skirmish with the armored thugs. I spared a glance while rushing to another cruiser and almost froze in awe.

Weld had molded one arm into a makeshift shield, using it to block gunshots from the smaller thugs, while his left arm had taken the shape of a blunted mace that he used to wail on the larger one, knocking him back step for step with each thunderous blow. The giant grabbed Weld's arm and wrenched it to the side with incredible strength. Weld responded with a shield bash to his armored skull, followed by a kick that sent him sprawling. The mace morphed into a slender blade and he lashed at the other three men. One tried to block the attack with the barrel of his rifle, only for Weld to cut clean through it and follow up with a haymaker that flattened the man against the ground.

So it went.

Whatever the armor did for these thugs, it didn't increase their speed or reaction times to match Weld's. It was astonishing to watch it from a distance, to see just how fast he was in a serious situation. A blur of iron, molten metal given purpose, he halted their advance in its tracks. No wonder they had only called for him, the guy new what he was doing.

With some effort, I tore my eyes away from the spectacle and went back to my far less glamorous duties of finding injured police officers. Most of the initial gunline had been abandoned, so imagine my surprise when I found two cops huddled near the far end, one cradling a bloody arm.

"What happened?" I asked as I rushed up to them. From the training I had received, the injury didn't look serious, and someone had already tried bandaging it. I could see some glass shards sticking out, and the broken window of the cruiser made it clear what had happened.

"Concussion grenade threw him through the windshield." the uninjured officer explained. "Nothing serious, I think, but we should get him to the hospital."

"Right, right." I said, trying to keep my mind moving. Getting them away from the bulk of the fighting was the main concern, nothing else mattered on my end.

"Okay, um… can you walk?"

The man grunted, "Good enough."

"Okay, okay, um… right. We're falling back, I mean you guys are. I'll shadow you in case they start firing towards us; I can handle bullets fine."

I mean, if having my arms ripped off barely phased me, I had a feeling bullets would fall under the 'non-lethal' category. Thank god, the officers didn't argue and started to move.

As they did, I heard Weld's voice. "Incoming!"

Something heavy sailed overhead, bounced off the cruiser, and rolled to a stop between the three of us. A fist sized object, covered in that same odd organic material that the thugs were wearing, with a familiar texture…

Oh shit, that was a grenade.

Oh shit, grenade!

The cops cursed and scrambled back, and I dove for the grenade. I could take damage, they couldn't. There wasn't even a debate, just an innate trust in my instincts as I dove, scooped up the grenade…

And promptly swallowed it whole.

Instincts bad.

My eyes went wide as the grenade plunged into my gut, and the cops stared at me, jaws agape. I only had time to shoot back to my feet, as my stomach began to rumble, and my entire world went white…

_**-M-**_

It had happened too fast for Weld to react to. One of the thugs he'd knocked down during his initial scuffle had gotten back up and grabbed the grenade launcher they had been using and tried firing it at Weld basically at point blank range. Either he had been suicidally stupid, or _very _confident in his suit of armor. The fact that he had missed even at their range was small comfort.

Weld watched the grenade sail over a cruiser, heard the startled cursing and then saw Taylor scrambling to her feet, an expression of shock and regret plastered across her features. And then she exploded into a fountain of pink gore, splattering the car and everyone within a thirty foot radius in pink muk.

He didn't have bodily functions anymore, but Weld felt sick to his stomach when bits of his teammate splattered across his face. Behind him, one of the thugs gagged and started retching. People started screaming in horror, cries of alarm and surprise ringing out from hardened police veterans. It took a lot to shake someone that worked in law enforcement; this was definitely on that list.

A spark of anger bubbled up in Weld and he turned back towards the thugs, pointing at them with his blade. The man with the grenade launcher let it clatter to the floor and raised his hands in surrender, "I swear to god, I didn't mean to! We weren't supposed to kill anyone, get the money get out, thats it! I didn't mean to kill her, I swear!"

Weld opened his mouth to respond, when… the goo started to move. He felt it, wriggling on his face, running along the crevices of his skin. The feeling was so alien that he practically jumped out of his skin in surprise when it happened. Weld looked at the splattered gunk covering his body, watching it slowly writhe and move, pulling away from his bodysuit and dropping onto the floor in heaps.

More retching ensued, from multiple people as pink goo started rapidly flowing back towards the source of the explosion, quickly mounting into a wriggling mass of pink pulsating flesh. Steam billowed from the mass of flesh even as it grew larger and larger, taking on a familiar form.

One leg formed and staggered forward, then another, a childish imitation of the original. A torso started to rise, arms melting off from its side, and spewing steam from holes along the bicep. A misshapen head rose from the shoulders, topped with a twitching tendril.

And then it all seemed to come together as color and shape flowed into the mockery. Taylor exploded back into life, bent over at the waist, fists clenched tight and lips spread in a furious snarl, exposing fangs. Her eyes burned red, and steam whistled from the pores along her body.

Weld felt his body freeze at the sight of her eyes. There was no intelligence there, no sign of reason or emotion. Well no, that wasn't true, there was emotion there. Raw unfiltered rage.

"That...**HURT**!" Taylor howled, a scream so primal and so deafening that all fell to their knees clutching at their ears in pain. Somewhere, windows shattered, and Weld could've sworn he felt the ground shake.

He had no time to register it though, Taylor was already moving. She sprinted, a lopsided unbalanced lope, straight across the pavement towards the van. One of the thugs had tried sneaking towards it; Taylor shoulder checked it hard enough to send it tumbling out into the street, and grabbed the mook by the throat.

"No, please, I didn't do it!" the man screamed.

Taylor slammed him into the ground, once, twice, three times, then sent him spiraling into another man hard enough to crack their armor. The third man lifted his rifle and opened fire on her, for all the good it did. Taylor sprinted through the gunfire, letting bullets harmlessly pass through her body, the wounds instantly closing as soon as they were made. She barreled over the man, skidding to a stop on the other side of him and smashing her foot against his chest.

"You hurt me!? I hurt you!" she screamed, kicking him again and again until the armor made a sickening crack and the man stopped struggling.

She sneered and turned on the last man, the largest of the four. He stepped back, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. Tremors of fear visibly wracked his body and he took a slow step backwards.

The moment his foot touched the ground, Taylor's sneer morphed into a manic grin and she did something Weld hadn't seen her do before. Both her arms stretched like putty, arcing across the space between her and the thug and wrapping around his arms and legs, snakes entwining their prey.

Taylor lifted the now screaming man up into the air and her grin grew unnaturally wide, literally stretching from ear to ear; then she started to squeeze. With enough time and enough effort, she may have crushed the man, armor or no. There was no way to tell, as Weld found his bearings and charged toward her.

"Djinn! Djinn, stop it!" he yelled, and tackled her to the ground from behind.

Taylor dropped the man with a startled yell, even as Weld put her in a full body lock, wrapping one arm around her neck, the other around her chest, and locking his legs around her waist and holding tight. She slammed her fists against his arms, denting the metal but doing no real harm for the moment.

"Taylor, it's me. It's Weld, your teammate, your friend!" he whispered into her ear. The struggling stopped, though her body remained tense.

"You're okay Taylor." Weld spoke softly, calmly, "You're okay now. No one's going to hurt you anymore, okay? You're safe now, you're with friends now."

She tensed again, a brief surge of strength that threatened to break his grip on her; the girl was incredibly strong. Then, as quickly as it came, her rage seemed to pass and she calmed down into slow, guttural sobs.

"It's okay Taylor, it's okay." Weld repeated.

By now, the cops had rejoined the scene, many of them rushing to the injured thugs. He heard one mention that the armor was busted, but apparently that just meant that whatever had been running it was shutdown. Whoever was inside it was fine.

Taylor let out another sob, and spoke in a raspy voice, "I'm okay now. I'm calm. I'm calm."

Weld slowly released her. Taylor immediately collapsed to the floor in a heap, covering her face. Her sobs sent tremors through her body, and they didn't cease even as Weld put a comforting hand on her back and spoke soft words of encouragement.

"Everything's going to be fine Taylor. You'll be fine. I'm here for you."

He had been where she was, he knew what she was going through, and there wasn't a chance in hell he was going to let her deal with it alone.

**A/N: Phew! Sorry for the later update. Wound up doing a bunch of (possibly unnecessary) research on Boston geography since its, ya know, an actual real city with about 200-300 years worth of history. Didn't really wanna wing it on that one, felt disrespectful in a way. End result of this is that I'm also working on a map of the city with general gang territory mapped out and everything, so expect that in the next few days!**

**So yeah, on the chapter itself... I'm upset with the beginning but I'm VERY happy with how the end turned out. Hope you guys enjoyed it, please let me know below what you thought, comments and criticism are welcome and encouraged. **

**Next chapter is going to be equally as interesting. How will Taylor deal with the fallout of this incident, will Weld get her the help she needs? Tune in next time to find out, on Dragon Ball Z Majin!**


	9. Old Masters 2-2

**Old Masters 2.2**

Stop shaking.

Stop shaking.

Stop shaking god damn it!

I clenched my fists tight as a wave of hot anger flowed over me again. My entire body trembled as I tried to contain the flood of adrenaline and anger that refused to back down. As if an entire separate being was fighting me for control of my body, it was an immense struggle just for me to remain seated on the sidewalk.

Since my little… freak out, the entire intersection had calmed down. Ambulances and SWAT had arrived within seconds after Weld had calmed me down, and the Blastgerm thugs were being marched off into an armored vehicle, clad in oversized heavy duty handcuffs and chains. The few injured police were being looked over by the paramedics, but it seemed casualties were low.

I felt my stomach and flinched. When the grenade had gone off, there had been a brief, shocking stab of pain that wracked my entire body. I hadn't felt anything like it since my transformation, and it had blind sided me. Maybe that was why I had reacted so violently; after all, most people don't live to appreciate being reduced to paste. Yeah, that made sense, it was a knee jerk reaction to a near death experience. That was a sane and logical reason.

Of course, it was also the wrong one. I couldn't explain why, but I knew that my reaction wasn't… right. That level of anger, that sadism, it wasn't me. I had felt almost like a prisoner in my own body, watching as I unleashed hell on my victims. That in itself was bad, but the similarity to my nightmares was haunting.

I released my fist with a sigh and stared at my hand. It was already trembling again.

Stop shaking.

Stop shaking

Stop-

"Hey, it's Djinn, right?"

My hand stopped shaking, I jerked my head up. It was one of the cops I'd rescued, yes, the one with the injured arm. Now that I wasn't worried about being shot, I could get a better look at him. He was a short man, we were practically eye level if I sat up, with a shaved head and small nose. He had dark brown eyes and smile lines on his face; probably in his mid thirties, it was hard to tell.

"Y-yeah. That's me." I croaked; my throat was raw from all the screaming, and apparently my regenerative abilities were feeling selective today. The alternative that I had overloaded them was too unsettling to think about.

The cop nodded, "Well, I just wanted to say, thanks. You really saved our bacon out here. Sorry you had to go through that though, it couldn't have been easy, especially for a kid like you."

I bit my lip and ducked my head, "I'm not _that _young."

The man laughed and rubbed at his head, "Yeah, I guess not. Either way, you've got guts kid. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask; I'll be forever in your debt for what you did."

I hoped the blush on my face wasn't too obvious when I lifted my head, and put on a weak smile, "Thanks, mister…?"

He laughed again, "I don't do the mister thing. Just call me Kuririn, all my friends do."

Huh, that was a surprise. I cocked my head to the side, "Your friends call you chestnut?"

Now it was his turn to look surprised, before he smiled and rubbed the top of his head, "Yup, it's what I get for shaving my head on accident as a kid, now I'm stuck with it. You speak japanese?"

"I do?"

When he had said 'Kuririn' there had been no guessing, I had just… known it. Maybe I had picked it up from all the ABB initiates at Winslow. A lot of them spoke nothing but japanese or chinese, so I was bound to pick something up. But still…

"I don't speak Japanese." I admitted. "I just recognized the word."

Kuririn chuckled, "You don't say? That some sort of power of yours?"

"Maybe? Powers are weird." I didn't want to tell him that we were still figuring out what I could and could not do. I had a feeling that it was a secret Armstrong wouldn't want to become public knowledge.

"Okay, you've got me there, I've seen some weird powers over the years." he gestured at the curb, "Mind if I sit down? Paramedics say I'm fine, but I think I need to sit after all that craziness."

"Be my guest." I moved to the side. As I did, I caught Weld out of the corner of my eye, talking with one of the SWAT officers, and he was wearing a relieved, and knowing, smile on his face.

Sneaky devil. I made a note to thank him later; for now, I tried to talk with the officer, and to keep my mind off of the absolute shit storm that was rolling my way. I was not looking forward to explaining what happened to Armstrong.

_**-M-**_

Well, I was right. Explaining what happened to the Director was slow, awkward and made it hard for me to look him in the eye, especially after admitting I had literally eaten a grenade At the very least, Director Armstrong didn't interrupt us during our report; it was a small victory, but a victory nonetheless.

When we finished, the only sound in his office was the bubbling of his aquarium and the steady _'tik-tok' _of a wall mounted clock. Like my last visit, we were seated at the coffee table instead of his desk. This didn't help with the nervous knot forming in my stomach. On the bright side, I no longer had the urge to murder anything that looked at me funny, so there was that.

After a long minute of silence, Armstrong took a long draw from his tea, and set it down with a solid 'clink'. He regarded Weld, then me, those dark eyes unreadable. Then he let out a sigh and leaned forward while rubbing his face.

"There's two ways for the fallout to go after today, Djinn. In the worst case scenario, people are left terrified of you as a potential time bomb waiting to go off, and we're forced to transfer you to another city, most likely one of the midwestern departments."

More knots started twisting in my stomach, until Weld gently touched my arm. I blinked, and looked at him. He pointedly looked at my hands, and I realized with a start that I had literally twisted some of my fingers into knots without realizing it. Oh god, that did not look right at all!

Armstrong patiently waited for me to untangle myself, which only took a minute to do. Once I was settled, I put on a weak smile. "And the other direction?"

His own lips turned up in a surprisingly smug smirk, "The other direction is already under way. Every New Years, the mayor holds an honoring ceremony for the heroes of the city, cape or cop. I've already put the paperwork forward and odds are good you'll be awarded a Medal of Valor for what you did today."

I choked back my surprise, "W-what!?"

The Medal of Valor was the _highest _decoration for bravery that non-military officers could receive in the US. During my entire life, only a handful had ever been handed out. It was rewarded to genuine heroes, men and women that put everything on the line for the safety of others and somehow survived, and sometimes not even that.

All I had done was eat a grenade. There was no way that I deserved anything coming close to that kind of reward.

"Djinn, Taylor." Armstrong said, "Today you willingly put your life on the line to protect people you had never met before. There was no way of knowing you were going to survive what you did. Your first reaction on seeing a life threatening danger, was to throw yourself in the line of fire with no regard for your own safety."

He leaned back in his chair, and steepled his fingers, "If you ask me, that certainly sounds like someone that's earned a Medal of Valor."

I stared at him, my jaw loosely hanging. This was unreal, unthinkable! It was my literal first day as a hero, and they were already getting ready to shower me with medals? Seriously!?

I shook my head, "No no no. Sir, I-I don't deserve this. I can regenerate, I can heal, that wasn't some noble sacrifice, plus I-"

Armstrong silenced my protests with a raised hand, "As far as the public will be concerned, you put your life on the line to save two officers of the law. That's what they'll see and it's what we want them to see. Your rampage afterwards, while excessive, isn't exactly unwarranted either. Most people don't appreciate being blown up after all."

My head was spinning, I couldn't find the words to protect. Me, a recipient of the Medal of Valor, being honored by the entire city of Boston. That didn't sit right, I hadn't earned it, I didn't _deserve _it. All I had done was what could be expected of me with the powers I had; that didn't make me a hero.

Yes I am aware of the irony of that statement, but my point stands. I had done nothing to be honored like this.

Seeing my obvious internal conflict, Armstrong sighed again, "Let's move on. We can discuss the details of the award later; there are other pressing concerns we need to discuss. This rampage for example. If I understand this correctly, your body was operating on instinct, but you were conscious the entire time?"

The line of questioning was a welcomed relief that pushed me away from unsavory self deprecating thinking. I nodded slowly, trying not to think about the rampage itself. "Y-yes. It was like watching a video of myself in action. Until Weld pinned me, I wasn't actually able to control myself… I was solely focused on making sure the people that hurt me paid for it."

Armstrong exchanged a glance with Weld, and gestured at him with an open palm. "You have something to say, son?"

Weld sat up a little straighter, "Yes. We've seen this kind of phenomenon from time to time with more inhuman capes, typically the more beastly ones. My personal theory right now is that, given your history at Winslow and the past few years, your powers are specifically centered around making sure you can't be hurt."

I raised a brow, and he rolled his eyes, "Let me explain. Your body is intimidating enough that the average person thinks twice before approaching you, no offense."

"Some taken." I deadpanned.

"If they're not intimidated, you have enhanced strength and stamina to defend yourself physically. If that fails, your body has regenerative abilities, and if whatever is hurting you is still too much for that to handle, it enters this… automatic rage state. A sort of 'kill mode' that tosses restraint to the wind. Anything that could or would hurt you is crushed, and you're safe again."

He shrugged, "Not everyone gets powers so thematically tied to their past, but it's happened. Alexandria was a cancer patient before triggering, and now she has an ageless indestructible body. So there is a precedent, just not one this… thorough."

Weld's hypothesis was rational, logical, it made _sense_. And it was dead wrong. Don't ask how, but I knew that whatever reason he or Armstrong came up with, they wouldn't be able to explain my powers. The only thing I could agree with, was that I did have a kill mode apparently, but it didn't seem to have my best interests in mind.

Armstrong rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "I'll make a note of that, Weld, it's very well thought out. Whatever the reason though, its obvious we're going to need to take steps to make sure this doesn't happen again. So, for now, I'm pulling you off patrol until we can get a handle on this. In addition, I'll be cancelling your transfer to South Boston High. If this 'rage state' is aggravated by stress, then putting you in a high school environment would be the absolute worst decision we could possibly make, especially given your… experiences, with the public school system."

I smirked, in a morbid way.

It was relieving though, his decisions. I would have more time to adjust, to learn what I could do and how to control myself. There was no way I'd let them put me in the field until I knew I could control… whatever it was, that was lurking inside me. So it was comforting to know that the Director and I were on the same page.

I said as much, before adding in a more sheepish tone, "I'll… also accept that offer of therapy now, if it's still on the table. It's probably not good for me to bottle up my feelings if getting stressed might make me do... That, again."

Armstrong gave me a warm smile, "I'll talk with Dr. Yamada, I'm sure she'll be more than willing to help. Now, there's still the issue of determining how to figure out exactly how this is… triggered."

He frowned, "The unfortunate truth is, there's not a lot we can do at the moment. Since you're a minor, we legally can't test you to your limits without your parents permission, and… well, I can't exactly see your father consenting to let us try and blow you up again."

No, that was… definitely not something dad would agree to. Frankly, I was having a hard time accepting the fact that I was agreeing to it. But, it was definitely a problem then. The testing and training I had gone through so far was simple, basic, and the most they could do for a Ward. The bureaucratic red tape and the ever-present specter of the Youth Guard made sure that any 'threats to the safety of minors in service to the Protectorate were kept to an absolute minimal.

Unless you ate a grenade, or decided to fight power armored goons in hand to hand combat, apparently.

Weld made himself known again with a raised hand, "Er, Director. I have an idea on how to help Taylor, off the record."

The look on Armstrong's face managed to be an amazing fusion of disgust, terror, amusement, and exasperation all mixed into one. It was actually quite impressive how he managed to display them all at once. And deeply, deeply concerning.

Armstrong rubbed his temples and stood up from his chair. "You'll have to talk to Miss Hebert, out of my office. I can't be involved _at all _or the Youth Guard will crucify me."

Weld nodded and stood up, offering me a hand. I took it, without hesitation, and stood up till we were eye level, "What exactly do you have in mind?" I asked.

He gave me that same damn reassuring smile and said, "Remember how you said you wanted to meet my master after we broke the cafeteria? Well, it seems you're going to get your wish."

"Oh, wait!" Armstrong interrupted, before we left.

We both turned back to him quizzically. Armstrong sighed, "One final question. Did your clothes survive the explosion, Miss Hebert? Because you're still wearing the costume Glenn gave you?"

I looked down at myself, and blinked, "Huh? I… have no idea, I hadn't even noticed."

No sooner had the words left my mouth, did my clothes erupt into steam, evaporating into the horrific default costume I had shown to Glenn earlier that week.

Fuck my life.

_**-M-**_

As it turned out, Weld's 'master' didn't technically live in Boston, but in the rural areas surrounding it. We spent at least 45 minutes driving along the Charles River, until city skyscrapers turned into suburbs and then suburbs into rural towns. Then we wound up abandoning the I-90 altogether and took a series of confusing twists and turns until we were driving through a barely paved road in the middle of an overgrown forest. I figured that might be the end of it, but no.

After we reached the end of the paved road, we found a dirt lot where an old pick up was parked, paint faded and cracked, its bumpers coated in rust. But it's windshield was clean, which meant someone was driving it; three guesses who.

Weld led me down a winding dirt path out that emerged through the forest and into a small lake that the Charles River filtered in and out of. There was an old rowboat there, in far better shape than the truck we had seen, tied to a dingy old wooden dock. I stopped at its edge, put my hands on my hips, and shot Weld a look.

"You've been annoyingly vague this entire trip Weld. I agreed to come because I want to control my powers. But the whole drive here, you've barely said a word."

He looked at me surprised, even as he was untying the rope tying the boat to the dock. "You looked lost in thought; I wanted to give you some space."

I opened my mouth, then closed it with a snap and huffed. Steam whistled through my pores, and my eye started twitching. Stupid metal jerk and his genuine kindness and actual good points. Sulking was practically my only past time, and what can I say, old habits die hard.

Weld finished untying the boat and gestured at it, "I can answer any questions you have on the way there. My master… enjoys his privacy, that's all. He's not much of a city person."

I looked at the boat, then at Weld, and let out a sigh before marching over and stepping into it. One advantage to being the daughter of a dock worker, I had been on my share of boats and dingy's over the years; I had a good set of sea legs, even if my new legs were longer than my old ones.

Weld on the other hand, managed to not so gracefully almost fall through the boat getting in. After a brief tussle with the rope, and the oars, we were finally under way, Weld rowing while I watched the river.

It's surface was calm, gently parting before us as we picked up speed, sending little ripples dancing across its surface. The weather today had been surprisingly warm for Boston, with a clear sky and surprising amount of activity in the lake itself. I could see a few fish, none of which I could name, darting out of our way as we rowed on. My reflection in the rippling water almost looked human, if I ignored the unnatural skin hue. It didn't help, and I grumpily returned to sitting in the boat and staring at the deck floor.

I crossed my arms and looked up at Weld, "So, this… master of yours. You seem to think pretty highly of him. What can you tell me about him?"

Weld thought for a moment as he rowed, "Well… he's a bit eccentric. Can be a bit blunt at times… kind of a crotchety geezer too, if he gets annoyed. But he's a kind man, a good man. I literally would not be the person I am today without him."

He hesitated after saying that, and suddenly took an interest in the lake. "He'll try and mess with you too. Best way to deal with it is to go with the flow. If you get uptight around him, he might decide not to train you, he's very particular about that."

"He sounds like quite the character." I noted, my curiosity piqued.

A reminiscent expression passed over Weld's face, "Oh you have no idea."

Before I could interrogate Weld some more, the boat suddenly jerked to a stop. I caught myself on its rail and looked over my shoulder at the island that seemed to have just… jumped up from nowhere. It wasn't huge (it wasn't a very big lake to begin with) but it definitely should've stuck out.

A ring of dirty sand surrounded a pleasantly green lawn, and a shade of oak trees occupied the eastern side of the island. On the western side, an old white lawn chair rested near the beach edge, and behind it was a small two story house. At one point its walls must've been red, but the paint had faded into a light pink. The roof had fresh red tiling and one of those old fashioned rooster weather vanes swiveled on the roof. Emblazoned in fresh red paint on the second story were the words 'Kame House'.

Weld stood up and cupped his hands together, "Master Roshi! It's Weld! I'm back!"

I heard a scuffling from inside the house, and the green screen door swung open and an old man shuffled out onto the front porch, shielding his eyes from the sun.

Now, let me reiterate that when I say old, I mean _ancient_. The guy had to be pushing his eighties or nineties at least. He was bald, with a thick white Fu Manchu mustache and beard. He wore a pair of red rimmed sunglasses that were topped with thick bushy eyebrows. A Hawaiian shirt hung from a frame best described as skin and bone, and he waddled forward with a bow legged strut, using a gnarled old wooden cane for support. A thick purple pack of some kind hung from his shoulders even as he waddled towards us, a sunny smile on his face.

Weld stepped out of the boat and onto the beach, bowing his head slightly even as the man, Master Roshi apparently, approached.

"Weld my boy!" he greeted happily, like a grandfather to his favorite grandson, "It's good to see you! How is my favorite pupil doing? Still keeping up with your training I hope, when you're not busy saving the world, eh?"

"Of course, Master Roshi, always." Weld said. The smile on his face was contagious, and I had to fight my own urge to start grinning too.

"And I see you brought a friend? Is this that girl you've been telling me all about, the one you've had your eye on?" he said, elbowing Weld while grinning mischievously.

Weld blanched and I swear he actually managed to blush, "What!? No, she's not… definitely not. I mean no offense Djinn, but I mean…"

"I don't blame you." I replied, deadpan, and stepped over the boat and walked up beside him. I wasn't exactly sure if I was supposed to bow too, or what. This wasn't quite what I had been expecting from the way Weld had talked about him. But, then again, Weld had said the man was a bit odd, so that was my fault more than anything else.

I imitated Weld's little bow and said, "Hi, I'm… Djinn. Weld said you might be able to help me train my powers."

The hunched old man craned his head up and up to look at me, quirking his lips as he did, "Eh… well, kids these days say a lot of things. Can't really promise anything until I get a good look at ya though, can I? He he he. Come on in, take a seat. I was getting ready to eat anyway, this will make for good conversation while I eat."

And with that he waddled back to his house, barely paying us any more attention. I looked at him, and then at Weld. He just shrugged and said, "Well, I did warn you, didn't I?"

**A/N: Well I did say it was a fusion fic right? God I hope this isn't too much in one chapter. There's a few bits here I might go back into and expand on, especially in Taylor's initial angst phase. This is more of a transition chapter, next chapter we've got a _lot _of ground to cover.**

**Hope you guys enjoyed it though, and please leave comments and criticism below, let me know what I missed or messed up on. Also, editor hasn't actually looked at the chapter yet (he's too busy streaming) so expect the edited copy up tomorrow sometime in the afternoon.**

**See you all next time!**


	10. FAQ

At the suggestion of a reader here, I've decided to put up a quick F.A.Q that should contain all the basic non-spoiler information for Majin for any new or confused readers. I'll be putting this behind a spoiler anyway, just in case, so if you want to avoid any hints on the story, stop reading here.

They gone? Good.

Is this a crossover or a fusion fic? This is a fusion fic combining the world of Dragon Ball with the world of Worm, meaning elements and characters of the former are being integrated into the latter while trying to retain some of the latter's tone and general feel.

Is Taylor's powers shard based? No, Scion and the shards have nothing to do with Taylor and her abilities. Somehow someway, she has wound up in control of _the _Majin Buu's body, which includes all the power, potential, and baggage that comes with it.

What is the timeline of the fic? The fic starts November 30th, 2010. This is a few months before the locker incident, and even farther back than the start of canon.

What is Taylor's situation in the Wards right now? She's currently under 'witness protection', being transferred to Boston as several people saw her walking into her home in Brockton Bay. This is the official story, the truth is that someone in the ENE Protectorate actually did their research and realized that Sophia has reverted to her old bullying ways. They sent her to Boston to avoid having to tell her about this and to avoid the colossal PR shit storm that would've resulted from this.

This should clear up any basic questions for now, feel free to let me know if there's any I missed and I'll add them to the F.A.Q. Hope this helped some, DM me if you need any clarification, bye!


	11. Old Masters 2-3

**Old Masters 2.3**

Kame House was surprisingly nice on the inside, very quaint and clean. Nice wood paneled floors, a mini bar separating the living room from the kitchen, a low table on a nice white carpet dominating most of said living room. One of those old TV's with the really large rears was sitting on a white dresser in front of the table, and an aquarium with a turtle rested on a shelf above it, soaking in soft red light from the lamp attached to it. A stairway in the corner of the living room led upstairs, I presumed to Master Roshi's bedroom. If I lived alone on an island, this was probably the kind of house I'd want to live in.

I was puzzled by the electrical lighting though; I hadn't seen any solar panels on the roof and there definitely weren't any power lines. Underground generator? I strained to listen while Weld talked quietly with Roshi. Nope, if there was a generator, I could definitely hear it in a house like this.

"...No, Master, she's not." Weld said, loud enough that I heard him and in a disapproving tone. I wondered what that was about.

Pulled from my musing, I saw Roshi readjust his sunglasses, "Ah, well. Can't blame an old man for asking, hehe."

He turned back to me and frowned, "I hope you don't plan on tracking dirt inside. I just cleaned."

I looked down at my feet and then at the wall by the door where Weld had neatly stowed his shoes. I flushed a deep pink., "Oh, sorry!" and quickly removed my shoes and put them by Weld's.

"Hm," Roshi grunted. "Bit of a deep thinker, eh?"

"She… does that from time to time." Weld admitted. I glared at him indignantly, but he shrugged helplessly.

Roshi's smile returned, "It's not often I have thinkers coming and asking me for lessons, hehe. At the very least, this should be interesting. Go on, sit down. I hope you like rice and chicken, I made extra!"

I sat at the table cross legged and glanced at Weld with one eyebrow raised. He sat next to me and said softly, "I told you, eccentric."

"Not eccentric!" Roshi yelled from the kitchen, "Just old! There's a difference!"

"One's quirky, the other's a condition." Weld replied in deadpan.

Roshi laughed, "Hehehehe! The real challenge is figuring out which is which!"

He returned with a tray loaded with three modest bowls of rice and chicken. The smell of rich spices set my mouth watering, but I restrained my hunger. I was here to learn, I could stuff my face later. Even if the food teased my senses with a promise of explosive delight with every-

Focus!

I tore my eyes from my food to look at Weld and Roshi as the old man sat down with a grunt of satisfaction. He grabbed his bowl, paused and looked at me, "Well, go ahead and eat before it gets cold! No point in talking over an empty stomach!"

Then and there I decided I liked Roshi, and I happily snatched the bowl off the table. He actually used chopsticks with them, but watching Weld and Roshi use them for a few seconds was enough to give me a general idea on how to use them. It was only my unfamiliarity with them, and my general anxiety that kept me from inhaling what Roshi had offered me. I still managed to wolf my food down before either of them had finished.

Roshi had paused halfway through my feast and watched with morbid curiosity. I smiled sheepishly when I finished. "It was good, thank you Master Roshi."

"Good appetite and good manners." Roshi said, the edge of his lips turning up in a smile, "You're making a good case for yourself already. But I suppose since you're finished, we'll get down to why you're here."

He set his bowl down and peered at me over his sunglasses. He had youthful eyes, dark brown, but very serious; it was an odd contrast. I swallowed the lump in my throat and glanced at my guide. Weld gave me no hints of what to say, he was stone faced.

"Weld said you could teach me." I started.

Roshi held up a hand, and I stopped. "I didn't ask what Weld said; I respect my students opinions, but I'm not interested in what he has to say about you.I'm interested in what _you _have to say."

I had no answer for him; no one had asked me a question like that since my transformation. Every major choice of the past two weeks, from joining the Wards, to my transfer to Boston, and finally my trip to Kame House, had all been made for me. I had made no argument against any of these decisions, I had simply accepted them. Like the bullying in Winslow, like my fathers depression… losing mom. I had accepted it all, a life of coasting without ever asking myself a simple question.

Why?

Why had I accepted all that life had thrown at me? Why had I just let my dad waste away from grief, why had I lied to him about school, about what my friend had done to me. Why had I simply sat down and let the Protectorate make all these decisions for me? What little resistance I had made was simply to make my situation more comfortable or mild outrage. But _why_?

That was a silly question, I knew exactly why.

I balled my hands into fists and met Roshi's eyes.

"Because I've been afraid. Afraid of change, afraid of taking control of my life, and afraid of my power. I've been coasting for years, content just to survive. I joined the Protectorate because I wanted to survive, because I was afraid of what the alternative was. I was afraid that with my power, I could hurt someone. I'm still afraid that I could hurt someone; I can barely control my powers, Roshi. There's… something inside me, anger, rage. I can keep it under control most of the time, but I snapped today and nearly killed someone, and that scares me more than anything else."

I felt tears well up in my eyes, "It was so easy, I could have so easily killed them, hurt them for hurting me. I won't be that person, this bully that crushes everyone under my feet, who lets my emotions control my actions. The problem is, I don't know how. That's why I'm here Master Roshi, to learn how to control myself, to learn how to use my powers to help the people that have no one else, and to learn to stop being afraid. Weld's a good person, he's been kind to me, and he trusts you. If he thinks you can help me, teach me to do these things, then that is good enough for me."

Weld handed me a napkin and I wiped at my eyes. Stupid powers and their emotional manipulation. Roshi stroked his beard thoughtfully, letting me gather myself. Once I had wiped away the tears, he finally spoke.

"You're quite the passionate young woman aren't you? Yes, I can see it, you have a fire burning inside you, begging to be let out. I can train you, oh yes. But before I do, you need to understand one thing."

"What's that?" I asked, trying to hide my relief.

Roshi pushed his sunglasses back up with a finger, "This is not a casual commitment, Djinn. If you become my student, you will follow my directions exactly. So long as you are on my island under my watchful gaze, I am your Master. I will push you to your limits, and once we have found those limits, we will shatter them. I won't lie, it will be hard work, grueling work. Your abilities might make you stronger than the average man, but that just means we need to push you all the harder. Every day, you will come by the crack of dawn and every day we will train. No weekends off unless I say otherwise, we will train everyday until I am satisfied with your progress, understand me?"

I stared at him, surprised by his conviction, and only managed a mute nod. Roshi shook his head, "No, I don't think you do. I am not a miracle worker, and I am not one of those cheap karate mall masters. While you are training under me you will learn discipline, self control, and respect. Martial Arts are not simply learning a fancy fighting technique, it is a way of life. A drive to push yourself ever onward, to improve upon your ability and yourself. You will become a student of the School of the Turtle Hermit: Work hard, study well, and eat and sleep plenty… that's the turtle hermit way to learn!"

He grinned, showing off his many missing teeth, "Which brings me to another thing. I will assume the Protectorate is educating you like they are Weld. This is good, I will expect you to keep up with your studies as well as your training. I expect your grades to reflect your potential, your absolute best."

"I… don't see how that has anything to do with martial arts." I pointed out.

I didn't see Roshi move, but I felt the light whap on my head from the end of his cane. I clutched my head, "Ow! What was that for!?"

"Lesson one!" Roshi said, ignoring my whining. "You will study the art of peace as well as the art of war. To stand ignorant of the world is to stand ignorant of yourself, for only by seeing the reflection of your actions can you truly know who you are. You must temper your sword with knowledge, understanding, and respect; that is how you will conquer this fear that you claim controls you. Understand?"

I nodded slowly, and he frowned, "Do you really? Explain what I mean?"

My attempt at glancing to Weld for help was interrupted by another sharp whap upside the head. "Agh! Stop that!"

"Weld doesn't have your answers, only you do." Roshi said sternly. "So, explain."

I grumbled and rubbed gingerly at the already vanishing welt on my head. "Okay, okay. You want me to keep up with my studies because it will help me expand my worldview right? I can understand the world better, so I can think better about my actions, or something like that?"

Roshi rubbed his beard and peered at me with a furrowed brow. His lips twitched up in a not quite smile. "You're certainly giving Weld a run for his money so far. Yes, that's close enough for now. I do believe that I am willing to take you on as my student, Djinn."

"I'm starting to wonder if that's a good idea." I mumbled. This time I was ready and tried catching the stick. Only to be surprised when he poked me in the ribs instead.

"That's no way to talk to your master, is it?" he said, though there was a little amusement in his voice.

I bowed my head, trying not to rub at my side. "No Master Roshi, I'm sorry."

"Good!" he heaved himself to his feet and shuffled around the table towards the door. "Then, if you're up for it, I'd like to see what you know so far. Weld says he's taught you the basics, well, we'll see how true that is."

I watched him go and once he was out the door, I looked at Weld with an acute 'what the fuck' expression. He just shrugged and stood up, offering me a hand, "That's Master Roshi for you. I did warn you."

"You said eccentric. I didn't expect to get interrogated." I replied, and accepted his offered hand. I made a mental note to figure out an appropriate way to get back at Weld, and stored it for later.

We followed Master Roshi outside, where he was waiting for us by the grove of trees. Inside, I was surprised to see that the grove was actually neatly planted into a near perfect circle, leaving a space open in the middle with meticulously cared for grass; not a weed in sight. A single large stone rested opposite us, its top worn smooth.

Master Roshi sat on the stone with a satisfied stone. "Now then, here's how things are going to go for this week, Djinn. Today, I am going to see what you know so far. Tomorrow, you have time to settle your affairs, rest, relax. Enjoy yourself. Come Monday, I expect you here at first light in the morning and we will properly begin your training. Understand?"

"Yes, Master Roshi." I said, with less enthusiasm than I should've. The idea of getting up that early didn't sound particularly great, but I would manage. If he could really help me, then it would all be worth it.

Roshi grinned and stood up, patting the stone behind him, "Excellent. Weld, if you could be so kind. You'll be the referee for our little sparring match."

I blinked, "Wait? Seriously? Aren't you a little… I don't mean to be rude, but I'm almost as strong as Weld. I wouldn't want to hurt you, er… Master."

Was he actually a parahuman and he just hid it well? Was that how he had managed to train someone like Weld? It didn't seem like a good idea to me for a normal person to even think about trying to fight someone with a Brute rating in hand to hand combat, even if it was a friendly sparring session.

Roshi's grin tightened, and the afternoon sun flashed off his sunglasses, "Oh, leave that to me to worry about, Djinn. I appreciate the concern though."

Weld strode past us and sat on the rock, giving me a look of purest sympathy. I was not looking forward to another whack from his walking stick, that was for sure, but I had a feeling I could handle the old man in a fight. Martial Art Master or no, I was leagues faster and

stronger than a normal human, it wouldn't be fair.

"Will this be a ten second knockout?" Weld asked.

Master Roshi reached up to the pack he'd been wearing and pulled it off, "No no, that won't be necessary. We'll just see how long it takes Djinn to actually land a hit." he dropped the pack beside him, and it landed with a hefty thud that sent vibrations through my feet.

My eyes went wide as Master Roshi straightened up and folded his arms behind his back, smiling innocently at me. "Go on, dear. You get the honor of first move."

Right, so I realized I might be a bit over my head. Pride pushed me on though, and I fell into the fighting stance Weld had taught me. The metal man raised a hand between us, and dropped it with a shout. "Go!"

I lunged, throwing a blurred fist at Master Roshi's shoulder; I really didn't want to hurt him. He deftly sidestepped the blow, and delivered a knee to my stomach. Stars exploded in my vision as all the air was driven from me and I doubled over gasping. Even Weld hadn't hit me that hard, how in the world had this old man!?

Parahuman, he had to be a parahuman.

I sucked in a breath, bared my teeth in a snarl, and lunged again, attacking much faster than before. To my surprise and shock, not a single punch even grazed the old man. He ducked, dodged and weaved between each of my blows as if they were in slow motion, that grin on his face the entire time.

A feint from the left translated into a roundhouse sweep at his legs. Master Roshi jumped over the kick, and hit me in the chin with one of his own, sending me tumbling onto my rear and rubbing at the footprint planted on my face. I glared at Master Roshi through my fingers, but he continued to smile at me.

"You have good form, I won't deny that. I'd say you're a natural even."

"Thanks." I growled, and lunged off my feet towards him in one fluid motion, trying to strike with my elbow.

He practically vanished, and I felt my head whip back while my antennae began to stretch behind me. I made a surprised noise of pain and outrage, even as he casually pulled me off my feet and face planted me onto the floor. In a matter of seconds, I soon found myself hog tied with my own damn head tentacle!

"W-what!?" I yelped, and struggled to free myself. "How did you do that!?"

Master Roshi crouched in front of me, resting his hands on his knees, "You're a fast learner, Djinn. But you only know what little Weld has taught you. You've begun erecting the walls of your home, but you have no foundation to build them on."

I glared at him, "You're a parahuman, aren't you?"

That actually made him laugh, "Hehehe! Oh that's good. No, I'm not a parahuman. I'm just an old man with lots of experience. Don't feel bad though; it took Weld months before he managed to land a successful hit on me; you'll get here eventually."

He reached up and pulled on the end of my antennae. It snapped back into place, and I nearly jerked my face into the ground. With my limbs free, I forced myself to sit up, and rubbed my wrist. "I don't get it… I should have been able to get you easily with how fast and strong I am."

Master Roshi shook his head, like a parent disappointed in their child. "Djinn, strength and speed alone are not everything. You may learn fast, but you have no experience to draw on. You lean on your power to support you, but you need experience to guide you."

His smile softened and he offered me a hand, "Fortunately, I have plenty to share, hehehe!"

I looked at the old man, who'd managed to kick my bright pink ass up and down the field in a handful of seconds, and I felt a small smile cross my lips. There was no malice in his face, in his actions. In a way I was reminded a lot of Armstrong; they both wanted me to be the best person I could be. Sure, he had beaten me, but it had been to teach a lesson. I might pick up on techniques quickly, but there was still more to learn, more to understand. A surge of excitement filled me, igniting something within me.

I clasped his hand with mine, and my smile widened, "I hope so Master Roshi, because I can't wait to learn everything you have to teach me."

**A/N: To be honest, the only reason this chapter is so late is mostly laziness on my part. I kept putting it off but once I actually got into it, it kind of took off on its own. I might go back and add some more prose to it later, maybe expand a few scenes, but I'm pretty happy with it as is. Dialogue chapters feel a lot longer to write than they actually are, I might add, it's _weird_. **

**So that aside, yeah. I decided to tone down Roshi's perviness by a metric fuckton, and focus more on his wisdom and experience. The poor old man barely gets any respect in Dragon Ball anymore even after the ToP, so I felt I'd bring him back a little more to his roots. It was a breathe of fresh air to write.**

**Next chapter, Taylor makes a terrible life decision that totally won't backfire on her in any way shape or form, so look forward to that on Friday!**

**Oh right, schedule change. So, I mentioned this in another chapter, I'm changing my change in update days. I won't be posting on Wednesdays anymore, only Monday and Friday. I'm hoping this will take some of the pressure off me, but I can't say I'm off to a great start. Time will tell if this was the right call I guess. Otherwise, hope you all enjoyed the chapter, feel free to leave comments and criticism as they come, and I'll see you all Friday!**


End file.
